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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757589">Seventh Star to the Right (Pleiades First Year)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizEstrada/pseuds/LizEstrada'>LizEstrada</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pleiades College Universe [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daddy-Long-Legs - Jean Webster, Emma - Jane Austen, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell, Pride and Prejudice &amp; Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Epistolary, F/M, Gen, Illustrations, Multi, Women's College</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:07:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizEstrada/pseuds/LizEstrada</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when some of our favorite (and least favorite) heroines are forced to live together? Judy Abbott, Caroline Bingley, and Margaret Hale are roommates at a prestigious women's college in this modern, epistolary mash-up of several classics. Join them in their adventures through the all the ups and downs of college – and all the friendships, romance, and heartbreaks that come with it.</p><p>This story began as a slow-burn retelling of Daddy-Long-Legs, Pride &amp; Prejudice, and North &amp; South, but then Emma Woodhouse showed up and demanded to be included. Perhaps some other novels will force their way into the story as well!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley, Judy Abbott &amp; Jervis Pendleton, Judy Abbott/Colonel Fitzwilliam (Pride and Prejudice), Margaret Hale/John Thornton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pleiades College Universe [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. July</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! I've been tinkering away at this fic on and off for several years. I'm hoping that putting it online will give me some external accountability that encourages me to make more consistent progress. The story is planned out over four years of college, and I've got most of the first semester drafted. I've been hesitant to start sharing in case I need to retcon any details later on, but I also just need a little push to keep writing. I'll try to post as regularly as I can, but I'm still (thankfully) working full time, and between that and a chronic illness, it can be difficult for me to keep up a schedule for my extracurricular projects.</p><p>I read a ton of P&amp;P fics, and I love a good modern retelling. I wish there was as active a fandom for other classic books I love, specifically Daddy-Long-Legs. North &amp; South is also a favorite, but as a Seven Sisters Alum like Jean Webster herself, DLL is very close to my heart. I read it for the first time as an adult, 100 years after it was first published, and I was struck by how familiar Judy's college experience felt to me, even with how different the world is today. </p><p>Is this whole fic just an elaborate ploy to get more people to read Jean Webster? Maybe. I hope you enjoy the story (and even more, I hope you go read some Jean Webster!).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Office of Residential Life<br/>Pleiades College<br/>1221 Atlas Street<br/>Orion, MA 02488</p><p>Jerusha Abbott<br/>21 John Grier Ln<br/>Grier, IN 46032</p><p>July 1, 2015</p><p>Dear Ms. Abbott,</p><p>Thank you for filling out your Residential Life housing survey. You have been assigned to Merope Hall East, Room 501. Based on the living preferences you indicated, your roommates will be Margaret Hale of Charleston, SC and Caroline Bingley of New York, NY. On the attached pages, you will find their contact information. We recommend that you reach out to your roommates over the summer to coordinate the purchasing or leasing of items for your dorm room, such as a microwave or mini-fridge. Further information concerning items that are and are not permitted in dormitories is also attached.</p><p>Residence halls will be open to first years starting at 9a.m. on August 10, 2015. Please report directly to your dorm to collect keys and receive your welcome packet for orientation.</p><p>Welcome to Pleiades College, Class of 2019!</p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Martha Gardiner, Director of Residential Life</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><b>To:</b> Charles Bingley &lt;charles.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject:</b> Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh<br/><b>Date:</b> 07/06/2015</p><p>omg WORST news. i just got my roommate assignment from pleiades in the mail. THEY PUT ME IN A TRIPLE! can you believe it??? i asked mom if there was anything we could do about it, since we have family on the board of trustees and everything, but she doesn’t think so. Ever since they stopped putting the financial aid students in a separate dorm a few decades ago, apparently its really hard to negotiate for better rooms, even with connections like ours. SUCH bullshit.</p><p>I didnt even tell you the worst part yet. One of my roommates is from south carolina, which is bad enough, but the other girl is named JERUSHA and is from INDIANA. they didn’t even give an email address for her, probably because they don’t have internet in flyover states. This is going to be the worrrsstt. i’m so glad you and Darcy are at Mayflower so i can escape my terrible roommates and see you all the time. I’m going to be over there like, EVERY day hahahahahaha </p><p>Hey speaking of how is Darcy? hasn’t responded to my latest email. I’m sure you’re both super busy with your internships over there and time differences or whatever so no big I JUST MISS YOUUUUUU.</p><p>xoxo</p><p>Caro</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>July 10, 2015</p><p>Dear Jerusha,</p><p>Hi! I’m one of your new roommates, Margaret! My whole family (including me, obviously!) comes from Charleston, South Carolina. I spent the last 13 years of my life at Cooper Prep, a girls’ school here. All my friends thought I’d lost my mind, wanting to go to a women’s college after that, but I am just so excited about Pleiades. My mom went to Vassar, and she’s convinced me that women’s colleges are the best place to go to college (even though Vassar was already co-ed when she went there). </p><p>I’m a little nervous about moving up north, since I’ve spent my whole life in the south. I’m told Massachusetts is a little less… hospitable. I imagine you understand where I’m coming from, being from the midwest and all. But I’m sure it will be very interesting to meet people from all over the world and learn about their different backgrounds.</p><p>Do you have an e-mail address? Facebook? Some other kind of digital calling card? I’ve been messaging our other roommate, Caroline, and we’ve agreed that she’ll bring a fridge if I bring a microwave, so no need to worry about that. Anyway, if you do have an email, feel free to message me (and Caroline too!) at margaret.m.hale@gmail.com or caro.bingley@gmail.com.</p><p>Can’t wait to meet you in a month!!!</p><p>Best,</p><p>Margaret Hale<br/><br/></p><hr/><p> </p><p><b>To: </b> &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;, &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Hi!<br/><b>Date:</b> 07/15/2015</p><p>Hi Margaret and Caroline,</p><p>I’m Judy, your other roommate! Sorry for the mixup about the e-mail address; you can contact me here (obviously) until we get our school e-mails set up. I got your letter, Margaret. If you two are taking care of the fridge and the microwave, what should I contribute?</p><p>Looking forward to meeting you at Pleiades!</p><p>Judy</p><p>
  <em> Sent from my iPhone. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><b>To: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Cc:</b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Hi!<br/><b>Date:</b> 07/15/2015</p><p>OH THANK GOD I was afraid you didn’t have email or something, lol. I’m caroline. Mags and I have already been emailing and stuff for a few days. I think it’s suuuuper important we pick a universal color scheme for our room. How does everyone feel about magenta and orange? I have been scoping some really great bed linens at anthropologie in that scheme and i think it would be so cute. Maybe like green and yellow accents? Or would y’all rather go bold, like heavy on the reds with cerulean and muted mustard accents, kind of like gucci fall 2015 line? Lmk cause we should really start working on our dorm inspo pinterest board (look me up J I already added mags)</p><p>J: maybe you could look and see what plates and stuff you could find in those schemes, since mags and i are getting the fridge/microwave already. West elm had some really cute stuff the other day. Do you have west elm in indiana? Actually maybe i should jsut look cause theres more stuff here and you can always just venmo me later.</p><p>Xo<br/>Caro</p><p>oh add me on snapchat/insta too im carobear96</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><b>To: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt; <br/><b>Cc: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From:</b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Hi!<br/><b>Date: </b>7/15/2015</p><p>Hi Caroline! Hi Judy! So glad we have your email address now :)</p><p>I actually already have my bedding – my godmother gave me some Vera Bradley bed linens for graduation, and they’re kind of a purple/teal/magenta pattern. I’m not sure how that works with your color scheme plans, Caroline, but I can add a picture of them to your dorm board on Pinterest?</p><p>Maybe we should plan a joint shopping trip together for when we get to school, and then we can plan to buy things like plates and decorations and whatever else we need together, after we’ve already seen what the space is like?</p><p>I wish we’d been able to start this conversation earlier! I’m going to be offline for most of the next three weeks – I’m leaving tomorrow for a medical mission trip with my church in Honduras, and I don’t know how much I’ll be able to be in contact. Awkward timing for our planning purposes (sorry!), but I’m super excited. I’m planning to be pre-med at Pleiades, and this will be a really good learning experience for me.</p><p>Anyway, I think Pinterest is a great way to brainstorm ideas, but let’s try to hold off on any major decisions until orientation. I’m sure decorating together will be a great bonding experience for us!</p><p> </p><p>See you soon!</p><p>Margaret</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><b>To: </b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt; <br/><b>Cc: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Hi!<br/><b>Date:</b> 07/15/2015</p><p>Sounds good to me!</p><p>
  <em> Sent from my iPhone. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><b>To:</b> Frederick Hale &lt;fchale@usna.edu&gt;<br/><b>From:</b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Fwd: Re: Hi!<br/><b>Date:</b> 7/15/2015</p><p>Hey Frederico! I hate your stupid Spanish internship and miss you terribly. I’m off to Honduras tomorrow, but I thought you’d enjoy the following exchange between myself and my soon-to-be roommates. I still don’t know much about the mysterious Judy Abbott, but she cannot possibly be worse than Caroline, who continues to be <em> awful</em>. “cerulean and muted mustard accents,” I ask you. We haven’t even met yet, and I’m already having to play Room Referee and manage her ridiculous demands. Poor girl was probably spoiled something horrible growing up, bless her heart.</p><p>Adiós, mi hermano,</p><p>Margaret</p><p>PS How do I get her to stop calling me “Mags” please help situation dire.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><b>To:</b> Louisa Bingley &lt;LouLouB93@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From:</b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Fwd: Re: Hi!<br/><b>Date: </b>7/15/2015</p><p>SAVE ME LOU I’M LIVING WITH MORONS UGH VERA BRADLEY UGH TEAL AND PURPLE UGH UGH UGH PLS SEE BELOW.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>July 16, 2015</p><p>Dear Mysterious Benefactor,</p><p>I am no expert on the protocol of scholarship disbursement and the strings attached to said disbursement, but this is certainly the most unorthodox scholarship scheme of which I have ever heard. I did not know how I was going to pay for college, being the parentless ragamuffin living at a group home that I am, so I just applied to every scholarship that I could find. When Mrs. Lippet – that’s the college counselor at my high school – informed me that I’d received a Pendleton Scholarship, I hardly even remembered that I’d applied, let alone the stipulations that came with it.</p><p>“The Pendleton Scholarship will cover your tuition, room, board, and living stipend during your four years at Pleiades,” said Mrs. Lippet, as my jaw hung somewhere in the vicinity of my navel. I’d assumed I was going to get through college the normal, American way – on top of a mountain of debt. “The Pendleton Foundation is unique in that, instead of requiring that its scholarship recipients maintain a certain grade point average or other scholastic benchmarks, all it asks of its scholars is that they send monthly letters documenting your progress in school.”</p><p>“Letters? Like, in the mail?” I continued to stare in disbelief. </p><p>“Yes, Miss Abbott. You will send them to a P.O. box in New York. They will be received and read by the anonymous donor who is funding your education, but you will receive no letters in return.”</p><p>“They don’t even care about my grades?”</p><p>Mrs. Lippet's lips turned down, as if she strongly disapproved of tracking academic progress through non-quantitative measures. “No, that is correct.”</p><p>“Awesome.”</p><p>At this, Mrs. Lippet proceeded to give me a 12 minute lecture (I timed it on the clock behind her) on the importance of maintaining a high grade point average in college, and I struggled to look attentive instead of rolling my eyes. Her primary point was that upon graduation, my future prospective employers would care <em> deeply </em> about my transcripts, an argument of which I’m rather suspicious. I think future employers will probably care a great deal more about what little work experience I manage to cobble together over the next four years than whether or not I get an A in a poetry class.</p><p>And it’s not that grades don’t matter to me, obviously. I mean, I got accepted to and chose to attend one of the most prestigious (and rigorous!) liberal arts colleges in the country. You have to be a certain kind of student to subscribe to that model. But it’s <em> also </em> nice not to be reduced to a grade point average, like that’s the only way to measure my value as a person over the next four years.</p><p>Mrs. Lippet is too much of a wet blanket to understand any of that though, so I just nodded along to her monologue.</p><p>That’s not really fair. I should be more appreciative of Mrs. Lippet. She DID help me fill out all those scholarship applications.</p><p>But she still has zero imagination, which is why I also couldn’t explain the other reason I am excited about this bizarre scholarship model. It’s so quaint and old-fashioned. I feel like the heroine in a 18th century epistolary novel, like <em> Evelina</em>. Hopefully no one gets their ear bitten off by a rogue monkey at the end of this story.</p><p>Now that I am actually writing to you, my Mysterious Benefactor Person, I am realizing how weird this actually is, writing to a specific yet faceless entity. I feel like I should address these differently, but I don’t know anything about you! Are you tall? Petite? Hairy? Bald? Old? VERY Old? I don’t even know if you are a man or a woman, come to think of it.</p><p>Perhaps I will just name you after this spider that is crawling along my window sill. It’s a Daddy Longlegs. </p><p>Dear Daddy-Long-Legs.</p><p>Nevermind, that’s unbelievably creepy and paternalistic. Absolutely not.</p><p>I will have to think more on this nomenclature thing.</p><p>Anyway, the whole reason I am writing – even though I have not actually started school and so am not technically supposed to be sending these letters yet – is that I received something wonderful in the mail today. THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES for the computer (!!!) and iPhone (!!!!!!!) you have sent me via the Foundation in preparation for my upcoming school year. Words cannot convey how much this means to me. I have never owned anything this nice or <em> useful </em> in my life. We have a couple computers here at the group home, but there’s always such a crush to use them that I’ve never really bothered. Before I graduated, I could use the ones in my high school library for assignments, but now that it’s summer, I barely have the opportunity to go online. </p><p>Mrs. McBride, head of my group home, wants me to keep the laptop locked in her office for the rest of summer so as not to cause issues with the other kids here (fighting over the communal computers is bad enough as it is). But she let me keep the phone around so I can be in contact with my newly-assigned roommates!</p><p>I didn’t even bother listing an e-mail address on my housing form because my time on the internet is so limited now that it’s summer (that, and the only e-mail I could ever access at the high school was my school account, which is now defunct). But clearly this was a mistake. I got my housing assignment last week, and apparently you’re supposed to e-mail your roommates over the summer so your bed linens don’t clash or something. Then, I received a letter in the mail from one of my roommates, Margaret. The letter was very nice and polite, but it was also clear to me that I’d been missing some conversations. Apparently she and my other roommate, Caroline, have already split up the fridge/microwave purchasing duties in my digital absence. Now that I have a phone (and a gmail account), I am able to participate in the pre-rooming planning, but I’m not sure what I can contribute. Hot plates, rice cookers, and electric tea kettles are all apparently illegal. What else are you supposed to buy for a dorm?</p><p>Margaret seems very sweet and very southern. Caroline does not seem to be either of those things. I will try to reserve judgment on either until August, but I am confident this will be a <em> very </em> interesting year.</p><p>Until August,</p><p>Judy Abbott</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. August</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Judy, Margaret, and Caroline move into their shoebox dorm room at Pleiades. Caroline is a real pill about it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>To: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;; Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Eeeeeee!!!!!<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/21/2015</p>
<p>Hi hi!</p>
<p>I just got back from my mission trip yesterday – it was AMAZING – I can’t wait to tell y'all about it when we finally meet in TWO days! My parents and I are leaving tomorrow morning to start driving up all my stuff, so we’ll be on campus bright and early on Monday. When will y’all get in? I hope our families can all have lunch together!</p>
<p>Can’t wait!</p>
<p>Margaret</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>To: </b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>CC: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Eeeeeee!!!!!<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/21/2015</p>
<p>My family is already here. We’re moving my older brother into his dorm this weekend because he’s here to help with orientation week at Mayflower. We will probably be at Pleiades around 10 on monday, depending on how the traffic out of the city is.</p>
<p>Xo</p>
<p>Caro</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>To: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>CC: </b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Eeeeeee!!!!!<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/21/2015</p>
<p>My flight gets in at 1 on Monday, and then I’ll take the airport shuttle to campus. Feel free to get lunch without me.</p>
<p>Judy</p>
<p>
  <em> Sent from my iPhone. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>To: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>CC: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Eeeeeee!!!!!<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/21/2015</p>
<p>Oh! Well we can wait and have dinner all together, then? I know my parents will really want to meet everyone’s families.</p>
<p>Margaret</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>To: </b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>CC: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Eeeeeee!!!!!<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/21/2015</p>
<p>I would love to have dinner with your parents, but I’m afraid it’s just going to be me on Monday!</p>
<p>Judy</p>
<p>
  <em> Sent from my iPhone. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>To: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;judyabbott97@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>CC: </b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Eeeeeee!!!!!<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/21/2015</p>
<p>My parents and i already have dinner plans back in the city with some important family friends. im sure we’ll have more than enough time to meet everyone while we’re moving in. see you monday.</p>
<p>Xo</p>
<p>Caro</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>To:</b> Frederick Hale &lt;fchale@usna.edu&gt;<br/><b>From:</b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Moved In<br/><b>Date:</b> 8/24/2015</p>
<p>Mom and Dad just left :(. I wish you could have been here, too. My <em> very special </em> new roommate, Caroline, had her brother in tow, and I was quite jealous. The Bingleys were all extremely nice, if a bit bland. It seems they pooled all the personality from the family and bestowed it upon their youngest member, with whom I am now residing. Unfortunately for me, the effect is not entirely pleasant.</p>
<p>Oh well. Judy at least seems OK. She came to dinner with us, but we couldn’t get much out of her. Mostly she seemed like she was struggling between being overly polite and arguing with Dad about theology. Sadly for all of us, politeness won out. The latter sounds more fun.</p>
<p>Got to go, apparently there’s some tradition happening where we all have to go down to the lake. They won’t tell us what the big to do is, but our RA just came by and handed us each a penny while wearing a poorly concealed look of mischief.</p>
<p>Miss you,</p>
<p>“Mags”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>To:</b> Charles Bingley &lt;charles.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject:</b> EMERGENCY<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/25/2015</p>
<p>CHARLES YOU ARE PRE-MED DO YOU THINK LEAD POISONING COULD STILL AFFECT MY BRAIN DEVELOPMENT AT 18 PLEASE ADVISE</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>To:</b> Frederick Hale &lt;fchale@usna.edu&gt;<br/><b>From:</b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Moved In<br/><b>Date:</b> 8/25/2015</p>
<p>Quick update on the penny situation: after congregating in the Great Hall (I go to Hogwarts now, did you know?) and being taught some Merope Hall cheers, we were all escorted down to the lake to trash talk the other dorms for a while. It was weird, but everyone got kind of into it? </p>
<p>Then at midnight, we were told to make a wish, throw our pennies into the lake, and chase after our dreams. The whole of my dorm rushed into the lake in our pajamas. It was AMAZING. We were about fifty feet from the shore before we noticed that none of the other dorms had followed us into the water. Losers. Even Caroline was into it. <em> Caroline</em>. I mean, you haven’t met her, but you’ve seen her emails. Forced school spirit and penny wishes don’t seem like her scene.</p>
<p>It wasn’t really her scene in the end. Turns out there used to be a ye olde paint factory across the lake, and the entire thing is filled with lead. Caroline was horrified, took a 45 minute shower, and threw out her lake clothes. Judy seems deviously pleased by all of this. She keeps telling Caroline things like, “don’t worry, your brain is <em> mostly </em> formed already. It <em> probably </em> won’t mess up your IQ or anything.” And then she strategically leaves her laptop open to articles about the correlation of leaded gasoline prevalence and the rise of criminal activity in urban areas in the 90s.</p>
<p>I think I’m going to like Judy.</p>
<p>Love,</p>
<p>Margaret</p>
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<p> </p>
<p><b>To:</b> Caroline E. Bingley &lt;cbingley@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> galeadmin &lt;galeadmin@galegroup.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject:</b> Academic OneFile:Environmental toxicity and poor cognitive outcomes in children and adults<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/26/2015</p>
<p>Liu, Jianghong, and Gary Lewis. "Environmental toxicity and poor cognitive outcomes in children and adults." <em>Journal of Environmental Health</em> 76.6 (2014): 130+. <em>Academic OneFile</em>. Gale. Pleiades College. 26 August 2015.</p>
<p>
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<p><b>To:</b> Caroline E. Bingley &lt;cbingley@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> galeadmin &lt;galeadmin@galegroup.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject:</b> Academic OneFile:Lead contamination of paint remediation workers' vehicles.<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/26/2015</p>
<p>Boraiko, Carol, Eva M. Wright, and Faye Ralston. "Lead contamination of paint remediation workers' vehicles." <em>Journal of Environmental Health </em>75.7 (2013): 22+. <em>Academic OneFile</em>. Gale. Pleiades College. 26 August 2015.</p>
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<p><b>To:</b> Caroline E. Bingley &lt;cbingley@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> galeadmin &lt;galeadmin@galegroup.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject:</b> Academic OneFile:Research explains how lead exposure produces learning deficits<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/26/2015</p>
<p>"Research explains how lead exposure produces learning deficits." <em>Journal of Environmental Health</em> 70.3 (2007): 58+. <em>Academic OneFile</em>. Gale. Pleiades College. 26 August 2015.</p>
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<p><b>To:</b> Caroline E. Bingley &lt;cbingley@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> galeadmin &lt;galeadmin@galegroup.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject:</b> Academic OneFile:Lead in adults: the lesser concern rears its head.<br/><b>Date:</b> 08/26/2015</p>
<p>Berg, Rebecca. "Lead in adults: the lesser concern rears its head." J<em>ournal of Environmental Health</em> 72.5 (2009): 8+. <em>Academic OneFile</em>. Gale. Pleiades College. 12 August 2015.</p>
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<p><b>To: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;jabbott@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>CC: </b> Margaret M. Hale &lt;mhale2@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Caroline E. Bingley &lt;cbingley@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Fwd: Academic OneFile:Lead in adults: the lesser concern rears its head.<br/><b>Date: </b>08/26/2015</p>
<p>WHAT IS THIS???????? HOW DID ALL THESE ARTICLES GET IN MY INBOX???</p>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
<p><b>To: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;jabbott@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Margaret M. Hale &lt;mhale2@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Fwd: Academic OneFile:Lead in adults: the lesser concern rears its head.<br/><b>Date: </b>08/26/2015</p>
<p>Caroline is having kittens over these lead poisoning articles you sent. You are <em> terrible</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>To: </b> Margaret M. Hale &lt;mhale2@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;jabbott@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Fwd: Academic OneFile:Lead in adults: the lesser concern rears its head.<br/><b>Date: </b>08/26/2015</p>
<p>Who, moi? I have absolutely <em> no idea </em> what you’re talking about, dear roomie.</p>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
<p><b>To: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;jabbott@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Margaret M. Hale &lt;mhale2@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Fwd: Academic OneFile:Lead in adults: the lesser concern rears its head.<br/><b>Date: </b>08/26/2015</p>
<p>You can stop denying it. I know you’re at the library with your first year mentor group getting online database trained right now. I ran into Betsy at breakfast and she mentioned she was headed to library orientation.</p>
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<p><b>To: </b> Margaret M. Hale &lt;mhale2@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Judy Abbott &lt;jabbott@pleiades.edu&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Re: Fwd:Academic OneFile:Lead in adults: the lesser concern rears its head.<br/><b>Date: </b>08/19/2015</p>
<p>Tee hee hee hee hee :)</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Margaret M. Hale (11:42): </b>Hi! I just figured out how to use chat!</p>
<p><b>Judy Abbott: </b>Hi! And cool!</p>
<p><b>Margaret M. Hale: </b>Caroline will not stop reading out excerpts from these articles in an increasingly high-pitched voice<br/>so thanks for that.</p>
<p><b>Judy Abbott: </b>Anytime.</p>
<p><b>Margaret M. Hale: </b>Seriously though<br/>lead exposure is terrible, as it turns out. <br/>We should probably stop joking about it.</p>
<p><b>Judy Abbott: </b>I think that’s why I find this situation so funny<br/>Lead IS a serious problem in this country<br/>For millions of americans<br/>but i kinda doubt Caroline cares about that<br/>Or was affected by it at any point during her posh upbringing<br/>and now she’s having this ridiculous hypochondriacal fit <br/>Tormenting her is proving to be too easy and seductive an opportunity to pass up</p>
<p><b>Margaret M. Hale: </b>ok fair enough<br/>BUT <br/>For the sake of room harmony<br/>And my eardrums<br/>Can we stop now?</p>
<p><b>Judy Abbott: </b>Ok ok you’re right</p>
<p><b>Margaret M. Hale: </b>Thanks :) </p>
<p><b>Judy Abbott: </b>Anyway I’m sure there will be a new thing for torturing Caroline at any moment now<br/>Coffee mugs that clash with her bedspread, maybe?</p>
<p><b>Margaret M. Hale: </b>You’re incorrigible. </p>
<p><b>Judy Abbott: </b>¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p>
<p><b>Margaret M. Hale: </b>Wanna grab lunch when you’re done in the library?</p>
<p><b>Judy Abbott: </b>Definitely. Union at 12:15?</p>
<p><b>Margaret M. Hale: </b>Let’s do Merope! I heard there’s a nacho bar today!</p>
<p><b>Judy Abbott: </b>DONE. See you then.</p>
<p><b>Margaret M. Hale: </b>I’m bringing Caroline too…</p>
<p><b>Judy Abbott: </b>Sigh, if you must. Ok wrapping up. See both in you a few minutes!</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>August 29, 2015</p>
<p>Dear Shadowy Figure Behind The Curtain,</p>
<p>I still do not have a name for you yet, but my new home, Merope Hall East Fifth Floor, is <em> Wizard of Oz </em> themed. You must concede that you carry a similar air of power and mystery. In my mind’s eye, the picture of you varies, but today you are a frazzled, displaced snake oil salesman, frantically pulling at levers as you try to compensate for the rampant inequality present in the American education system. Not that I think you are a snake oil salesman, but getting me here feels like it required a certain degree of wizardry, imagined or otherwise.</p>
<p>Toto, we’re not in Indiana anymore.</p>
<p>I got to Pleiades Monday afternoon and about died of happiness. I’d seen pictures and videos of campus, of course, but no medium can possibly translate the impact of seeing it in person. I live in Merope Hall, a palatial building perched atop a hill that overlooks both campus and the lake. Inside is almost equally picturesque; the large common room that takes up the middle of the first two floors is called the “great hall,” though in fact, it looks rather like I imagine the Gryffindor common room would. As I was collecting my keys, gawking at everything around me, our residential director proudly told me all about the hand-carved wood panelling that seems to cover every vertical inch between the tall, arched windows, and the similarly ornate (if uncomfortable-looking) furniture. Apparently, Merope Hall stands on the grounds of the former College Court, a building that housed the entire school (residential <em> and </em> academic) until it rather dramatically burned down in 1914. The benefactress who paid to replace the building insisted on the lavish furnishings in the great hall. She also wished to remain anonymous at the time – I wonder if she bears any relation to you, Mysterious Benefactor Sir or Madam.</p>
<p>I am <em> very </em> lucky. I could have been saddled with one of the new dorms, which I am told are significantly less stately. I haven’t seen for myself, because every time I leave my little corner of campus, I get hopelessly lost. Not that that’s a problem. I feel like could wander around here forever, without any sort of purpose. </p>
<p>The price to pay for such a prime location is a rather tight squeeze for three women. My new roommates, Caroline and Margaret, were already there when I arrived, stuffed into the room with their two sets of parents and a brother (Caroline’s). Caroline was very busy bemoaning the fact that we do not have separate closets, a point she has brought up at least hourly for the past eight days. I don’t know what she’s whining about, though. She’s already staked her claim on two-thirds of our singular closet. Margaret is too polite complain. I would, but I have hardly any clothes with which to stage passive aggressive closet warfare. But even with her more-than-fair share of the closet, Caroline will not be satisfied. I suspect it has something to do with her designer labels being forced to share closet real estate with my low-rent Target clothes.</p>
<p>Margaret, unlike Caroline, is <em> lovely</em>. Although she is clearly the peacemaker of the room, she also has a secret feisty streak that I can’t wait to exploit. Sometimes I see glimpses of mischief behind her placid façade. I’ve spent most of the past week with her, and I can tell that she is, in the words of Patron Saint Anne Shirley, a kindred spirit. #orphangoals</p>
<p>Orientation has been too packed with things to name them all; the campus safety lecture, a (dry) party in the campus center pub, IT setup (got my school email!), library training, sports fair (maybe will try out for basketball?) and of course, class registration. I’m taking a first year writing seminar, French 201, Intro to American Poetry, and… Math 101. My academic advisor strongly suggested I get a math/science requirement out of the way, given my strong aversion to the subjects. I would much rather be taking a full slate of courses related to literature and writing, but I guess that’s not really the point of a liberal arts education. Hmph. Classes start tomorrow, and I’m very excited about (most of) them.</p>
<p>This afternoon, I’m headed to the Org Fair with Caroline and Margaret to find out more about clubs on campus. I’m half dreading/half eagerly anticipating Caroline’s ridiculous commentary. At the Sports Fair, she kept going on and on about which athletic pursuits were worthy of “accomplished women.” According to her, field hockey, golf, and lacrosse are acceptable pursuits for ladies, but soccer, basketball, and <em> especially </em> softball are decidedly “pedestrian.” When asked which of the approved teams she would be joining, she simply sniffed and said, “I have more important designs on my time this year.”</p>
<p>I really don’t know what her deal is. I met her family on move-in day, and they seem… fine? Her parents are super innocuous, if bland, and her brother – Charles, or Charlie, or something – is the most aggressively nice person I’ve ever met. He was falling all over himself to help me with my bags and make easy small talk. <em> How </em>can these two be related? I think it is very possible that Caroline is a changeling.</p>
<p>Given the constant stream of elitism spewing from Caroline’s mouth, I’m not thrilled about the idea of disclosing my background in the foster system or the fact that I’ve spent the past several years in a group home. It’s nice to just be Judy, another first year at Pleiades, and not “Jerusha Abbott,” the unfortunately-named foster kid being shuffled around from school to school in second-hand clothes. Luckily, Caroline seems to have little to no interest in getting to know me. I don’t get that from Margaret at all, but she is wonderfully non-nosy so far. It doesn’t even feel like lying.</p>
<p>Much.</p>
<p>I just have to be careful not to veer into Wizard of Oz, territory. It’s a fine line between hiding behind other people’s assumptions and active deception.</p>
<p>Speaking again of <em> The Wizard of Oz, </em> on Thursday, our R.A. held a competition to see which room could best decorate their door to match the hall theme. As the only triple on the hall, collectively deciding on a design scheme was at least 50%* more difficult for us than any of the other rooms, possibly more because Caroline Bingley was involved. She wanted to make ours “Defying Gravity” themed. I protested that <em> Wicked </em> was way overdone, and we might as well make our door look like the ice palace in <em> Frozen </em> because “Let it Go” is basically the same song, and was she planning on incorporating Elsa and Anna dolls into her design? Then I had to listen to a lecture on how, having committed the unforgivable crime of growing up in <em> Indiana </em> instead of Manhattan, I didn’t know good <em> theatre** </em>from a “second-rate nativity play in Pulaski.” I didn’t bother to tell her that Pulaski is, in fact, in Illinois, because I was frankly impressed she’d gotten anywhere in the ballpark.</p>
<p>*Look at me, practicing my math skills already! Take that, Math 101!</p>
<p>**You just know she spells it <em> theatre </em> from the way she talks.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Margaret wanted to cover the door in paper poppies, but I pointed out that has a rather morbid association for some of our British classmates (there is one – a sophomore named Emma – directly across the hall). For my own part, I lobbied to make the whole thing just flying monkeys, as deranged-looking as possible. Caroline was so horrified that when I proposed my <em> actual </em> plan, she gave in, relieved. Plus, we let her go nuts with a pair of scissors and some old fashion and home decor magazines to get the collage right. She was <em> so </em> pleased. Attached, you will find a faithful rendering of our (WINNING) design. You can tell who the true artistic genius in room 501 is. We decimated a yellow-brick road, several Glinda the Good Witches, a Lollipop Guild, a Scarecrow, a door entirely covered in aluminum foil, and not one, not two, but THREE <em> Wicked </em>-themed doors. Amateurs.</p>
<p>As our prize, Jane the R.A. baked us snickerdoodles. When Caroline complained that she was on a gluten-free diet, Jane apologized profusely and produced somehow equally delicious gluten-free snickerdoodles the very next day. I take back what I said about Charles/Charlie being the most aggressively nice person I’ve ever met. I think Jane might have him beat.</p>
<p>I love it here, Caroline Bingley and all. It has been one week, and I already know that I don’t ever want to go back to the drab grayscape of Grier, Indiana. If this is a dream, you can keep those ruby slippers. I have no intention of waking up.</p>
<p>Indebtedly yours,</p>
<p>Judy</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll try to get chapter 3 up within the next week because things really start to pop off in September. I'd like to stay at least a chapter ahead of posting, and I'm still revising October, November, and December. Hopefully I can wrap up those up soon, and we can all experience the horrific, rum-soaked memory of that first college frat party with our heroines.</p>
<p>Also, if you're downloading the original DLL for some light quarantine reading (it's free!), make sure to grab a version that has the original illustrations included. Jean Webster's artwork is a sight to behold.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. September</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Classes start, more cutesy traditions are had, and Judy and Caroline go to a frat party.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:21]: </b>HALP</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:22]: </b>What fresh hell is this Judy I just got into bed</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:22]: </b>Ugh so you know how I stupidly agreed to go to that frat party with Caroline</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:22]: </b>Yes that was bewildering</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:22]: </b>Well now she’s SUPER WASTED and I don’t know how to get back to the bus <br/>
and FUCKING JANE AND CHARLOTTE JUST SHOWED UP TO THIS PARTY.<br/>
WHAT DO I DO? IS SHE GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE? AM *I* GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE?<br/>
AHHHHH WHY DID I COME HERE</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:24]: </b> Ok calm down lemme think<br/>
Is Caroline ok? <br/>
Like does she need to go to the infirmary or something?</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:24]: </b> I don’t think so?<br/>
We’re hiding in a bathroom and she’s puking a lot<br/>
Is that bad?</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:25]: </b>What did she have to drink</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:25]: </b> 2 cups of something called jungle juice<br/>
I have no idea what that means<br/>
But i’m pretty sure no one roofied her or anything, i have been with her the whole time</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:25]: </b>Ok lemme check with my brother h/o</p>
<hr/><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:25]: </b>Freddie! My roommate is really drunk and puking after two cups of jungle juice at a frat party. How bad is that on a scale of 1 to 10?</p><p><b>Frederick Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:25]: </b>Lol, lightweight. Like a 3, 3.5 max. No one put anything in her drink right</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:26]: </b>No, I don’t think so</p><p><b>Frederick Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:26]: </b>Ok, cool, she just needs to sleep it off</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:27]: </b>THANKS BIG BROTHER</p><p><b>Frederick Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:27]: </b>Keep out of trouble, little sister</p>
<hr/><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:26]: </b>ok brother says she’s probably ok</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:26]: </b> thank god<br/>
But what about Jane and Charlotte???</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:27]: </b> he says she just needs to sleep it off<br/>
Oh shoot, right<br/>
Ok here’s the plan<br/>
Do you have Caroline’s phone</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:28]: </b>Yeah</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:28]: </b> Ok find her brother and ask him to come help<br/>
I’m going to call Jane to distract her</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:28]: </b>How are you going to do that?</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:29]: </b>I’ll cry to her all about how my long-distance boyfriend just tragically dumped me over text message</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:29]: </b> …<br/>
You don’t have a long distance boyfriend</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:30]: </b> No, but Henry Lennox did follow me around all last summer like a pathetic lovesick puppy<br/>
I’ll embellish<br/>
Did you get Charlie yet?</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:31]: </b>yeah, talking to him now h/o</p>
<hr/><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:29]: </b>Hi, Charlie? It’s Judy, your sister’s roommate</p><p><b>Charles Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:30]: </b>Hi Judy, is something wrong with my sister???</p><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:30]: </b>Um, kind of, we’re at this frat party and she got really drunk and now she’s puking and we’re hiding in a bathroom because our RA and my FYM are here and I’m afraid she’s going to get in trouble for underage drinking and I don’t know what to do and Margaret said to contact you while she distracts our RA</p><p><b>Charles Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:31]: </b>What did Caroline drink? Is she ok? What’s an FYM?</p><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:31]: </b>2 cups of jungle juice. Margaret’s brother said she’s probably fine? First Year Mentor – another upperclasswoman on our hall.</p><p><b>Charles Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:32]: </b> Hahaha what a lightweight. <br/>
She’s fine but I’ll come get you. Where are you?</p><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:33]: </b> Um, I don’t really know tbh. <br/>
I came here with your sister but I don’t know the city very well yet<br/>
We’re at MassTech frat over the river<br/>
There’s a unicorn on the wall<br/>
That’s all I know</p><p><b>Charles Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:34]: </b>Ok, why don’t you drop me pin and I’ll just take an uber there</p><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:35]: </b>Oh! Good idea. And thanks</p><p><b>Charles Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:35]: </b> Got it, we’ll be there in like 10-15<br/>
oh and don’t worry about your RA or your mentor whatever<br/>
They’re not going to report you<br/>
That’s not how college works lol<br/>
They’re also probably underage themselves</p><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:36]: </b> Oh<br/>
Good point<br/>
I didn’t think of that<br/>
Sorry I just panicked instead hahaha</p><p><b>Charles Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:37]: </b> It’s ok, you’re new to it ;)<br/>
We’re on our way, see you soon<br/>
Oh and if my sister’s done puking you should stop hiding in the bathroom<br/>
There’s probably a line</p>
<hr/><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:37]: </b> Ok Charlie is coming<br/>
Also you don’t have to worry about distracting Jane<br/>
Charlie pointed out that she probably isn’t going to turn us in<br/>
Seeing as she’s also underage and all<br/>
Hahah<br/>
Oops<br/>
Margaret?<br/>
You there?</p>
<hr/><p><b>Charles Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 00:39]: </b> Uh Judy would you mind deleting these texts from Caroline’s phone?<br/>
I don’t think she’d be thrilled about my laughing at her and calling her a lightweight.</p>
<hr/><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:39]: </b>Hey are you in the dorm?</p><p><b>Betsy Higgins (313) 219-XXXX [09/06/15 00:40]: </b>Yea just got back from the science library</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:40]: </b>What?! No, Betsy, why? No no no it’s Saturday night</p><p><b>Betsy Higgins (313) 219-XXXX [09/06/15 00:41]: </b>I have a lot of homework! Why, where are you Miss Social Butterfly</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:41]: </b> Ugh MassTech long story<br/>
Can you do me a favor and go to my room and tell Margaret I said to call it off her mission is canceled? </p><p><b>Betsy Higgins (313) 219-XXXX [09/06/15 00:41]: </b> How… enigmatic<br/>
On my way but you’re filling me in on all of this later</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 00:42]: </b>And we’re talking about your saturday night plans later</p>
<hr/><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 00:44]: </b> Ugh just saw your text messages because betsy<br/>
I can’t believe it didn’t occur to either of us that jane and charlotte are both underage<br/>
hahaha<br/>
What a waste of a dramatic performance<br/>
That Henry Lennox was a real heartbreaker I tell you<br/>
Jane’s going to be looking at me with pity eyes for WEEKS<br/>
Judy?<br/>
You there?</p>
<hr/><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 02:13]: </b> Omg<br/>
Are you awake?<br/>
I have so much to tell you<br/>
Ahhhh wakeup wakeup wakeup<br/>
Ok I’m just going to keep texting because Caroline and Char are both passed out and Jane is up front making polite conversation with the driver<br/>
I’m in an uber headed back to campus <br/>
Charlie ordered it for us<br/>
He said it was “to make sure Caroline gets home safe”<br/>
But I suspect it has more to do with how pathetically smitten he is with Jane<br/>
He walked in and didn’t see us<br/>
And made a beeline for Jane under the pretense of needing “help" finding us<br/>
Apparently she and Char were at the party because her sister/char’s bff goes to MassTech and is friendly with some dudes in the frat<br/>
You don’t need to worry about the pity eyes<br/>
Charlie told them I was worried about them reporting caroline<br/>
And Jane put two and two together<br/>
And then everyone laughed and laughed and laughed<br/>
At our expense<br/>
Oh well it made us very popular with the older set<br/>
They think we’re adorable<br/>
Charlie brought his bff – Darcy – and also Darcy’s cousin, Fitz<br/>
Unclear if those are first or last names<br/>
Fitz is a senior at Greenwich in NY<br/>
He’s just in town visiting<br/>
But he’s pretty cute/charming<br/>
I may have a weensie crush on him<br/>
In that unattainable, i-will-never-see-this-boy-again way<br/>
But AH!<br/>
His curly hair<br/>
His laugh<br/>
THOSE DIMPLES<br/>
      <br/>
Meanwhile, in her brief moments of consciousness, Caroline was DRAPING herself over Darcy, who was none too pleased<br/>
I was really embarrassed for her<br/>
Like I might actually be nice to her for a couple days embarrassed for her<br/>
Darcy hated everyone though, not just Caroline<br/>
Re: Jane’s sister elizabeth: “She’s tolerable, I guess. Now piss off and leave me alone Charlie.”<br/>
WHICH IS INSANE<br/>
Because Lizzy is one of those people<br/>
Who is so compellingly attractive<br/>
That her hotness and intrigue should transcend any barrier<br/>
Like class or intellectual disparity or sexual orientation<br/>
I mean I would probably make out with her at least<br/>
And I’m pretty sure I’m straight<br/>
(see: Fitz McDimples)<br/>
Anyway Lizzy DEF heard<br/>
Because a minute later she and Char started giggling across the room after what was clearly an impersonation of Surly Darcy by Lizzy<br/>
And then Caroline passed out again<br/>
But Charlie and Jane had gone off dancing<br/>
And Darcy went to lurk in a corner<br/>
Which is pretty annoying<br/>
Except that Fitz and his dimples stayed with me and Caroline’s corpse<br/>
So I didn’t really care<br/>
He’s studying philosophy<br/>
And something else boring sounding<br/>
(I forget the something else)<br/>
And we talked about books<br/>
And TV<br/>
Except I have never watched much tv<br/>
And he was scandalized<br/>
So I admitted that we’ve been watching Avatar the Last Airbender<br/>
Even though it’s kind of embarrassing that all I know is children’s television<br/>
It just popped out<br/>
And his eyes got all crinkly like maybe he was laughing at me but also maybe like he thought it was cute<br/>
He said Darcy’s sister is really into ATLA and he’d binged-watched it with her one summer<br/>
He said we need to watch Korra<br/>
And also read the comics<br/>
And that if i like fantasy that’s kind of silly, i should listen to something called the adventure zone<br/>
I guess it’s a podcast about… dungeons and dragons?????<br/>
It sounds bad, tbh<br/>
But his dimples make a very convincing argument<br/>
So you and I are doing that next week, fyi<br/>
Oh we’re pulling into campus now<br/>
I’ll tell you the rest in the morning</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 11:35]: </b>omfg please tell me I hallucinated the part of the night WHERE YOU CALLED MY BROTHER AND DARCY TO COME GET US WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 11:42]: </b>Uh you’re welcome?</p><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 11:42]: </b>I cannot fucking believe you would do that thats totally such a violation of the roommate code</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 11:43]: </b>ummmm what</p><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 11:43]: </b>YOU EMBARRASSED ME IN FRONT OF MY BROTHER AND HIS FRIENDS</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 11:45]: </b>Oh honey you did that all on your own</p>
<hr/><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 11:43]: </b> WTF Caroline is actually yelling at me about last night and calling her brother to help<br/>
what the hell is wrong with her<br/>
she is such an ungrateful shrew</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 11:43]: </b> WHAT?!<br/>
Wait I’m so confused<br/>
Like she’s yelling at you now? And you’re texting me while she’s yelling at you?</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 11:44]: </b> No no no like she’s all capsing me over text<br/>
I’m at the Union not in the room<br/>
How bad is it if I say this:<br/>
Sorry, I don’t remember a bullet point in the reslife handbook about what to do when your roommate gets WASTED at a frat party your first time into the city and you’re lost and you don’t fucking know anybody except the person whose HAIR YOU’RE HOLDING BACK AS THEY PUKE IN THE TOILET<br/>
Because that’s the draft I’m working with</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 11:46]: </b> OMG JUDY ABORT ABORT<br/>
TEXT MESSAGE IS NOT THE PLATFORM FOR ROOMMATE DISPUTES<br/>
NOTHING GOOD WILL COME OF THIS<br/>
DEESCALATE NOW</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 11:46]: </b>SHE STARTED IT</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 11:46]: </b> BE THE BIGGER PERSON<br/>
Seriously Judy if you care about me and my sanity AT ALL please please please just try to smooth things over right now and we’ll all three have a proper conversation about this later<br/>
Where are you in the union i’m coming to you now from the amphitheater <br/>
Don’t text anything else till I get there</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 11:47]: </b> Nook in the fireplace room<br/>
I forget what it’s called<br/>
We have an amphitheater?</p><p><b>Margaret Hale (843) 741-XXXX [09/06/15 11:47]: </b> Barnaby Forum. And yes, we have an amphitheater. You can see it from where you’re standing<br/>
Look to the left of Alumni</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 11:47]: </b> OMG I CAN SEE YOU!<br/>
HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII<br/>
Ok I’m waiting for you before I text anything<br/>
Seriously though fuck Caroline she’s a monster</p>
<hr/><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/06/15 11:51]: </b> Caroline?<br/>
You still there?<br/>
Hey look I’m really sorry you’re upset about this<br/>
I was honestly really worried about you last night and I didn’t know what to do<br/>
I never went to parties in high school so this is kind of foreign territory to me<br/>
And your brother was so nice about it!<br/>
Please don’t stress about it<br/>
We can talk about it when I get back to the room later<br/>
And what the necessary boundaries we all need to cohabitate are<br/>
Ok?<br/>
I’ll be back in about an hour<br/>
Caroline?</p><p><b>Caroline Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 12:03]: </b> UGH JANE WAS THERE TOO?<br/>
She just came and brought me tea and a gf muffin and advil<br/>
UGH THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING<br/>
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH<br/>
Are you with mags you sound like youre with mags<br/>
You don’t have the good breeding Mags has for politeness</p>
<hr/><p><b>Charles Bingley (212) 444-XXXX [09/06/15 14:21]: </b> Caroline how are you feeling?<br/>
I’m am on my way to Pleiades in a minute<br/>
I just thought I’d come see how my little sis is feeling after her first drunk college night lol<br/>
Also do you know what janes favorite flowers are<br/>
I just thought Id thank her<br/>
For helping you home<br/>
Cause she lives near you and all<br/>
Caroline?<br/>
Ok im going with lillies<br/>
Oh fitz says those are too funereal<br/>
What is a peony these just look like golf balls on sticks<br/>
Darcy is mocking me for not knowing what peonies are<br/>
Ok darcy says daisies are safe<br/>
Pink daisies or white daisies?<br/>
I went with pink daisies<br/>
See you soon xo</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><b>To:</b> Louisa Bingley &lt;LouLouB93@gmail.com&gt;<br/>
<b>From:</b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/>
<b>Subject: </b> Disaster<br/>
<b>Date: </b>9/07/2015</p><p>This weekend was a fiasco. I got like, <em> a teensy bit </em> tipsy at a frat party and my idiot roommate panicked, STOLE MY PHONE, and texted Charlie to come get us. and he brought darcy and fitz with him, <em> of fuckign course </em> and because my life sucks a bunch of upperclasswomen from my dorm were there, too. Including my RA Jane who charlie pounced on immediately. You knwo charlie, he’s already obsessed. Yesterday he came all the way out to Pleiades “to check on me” with FLOWERS FOR JANE. He didn’t bring <em> me </em> any flowers. I mean you were already at the shop, pick me up some nice orchids or something. He could have at least brought Darcy with him so i’d have someone to hang out with while he hit on jane.</p><p>Jane is a sweet girl, and admittedly very pretty, but she’s from some hillbilly outpost in virginia and her sisters a fucking nightmare. She was at the party too–goes to masstech and is a classic case of snotty masstech loser who’s just jealous of mayflower and Pleiades students not being socially unacceptable nerd freaks like her. You should have seen the way she talked down to darcy – SO RUDE.</p><p>Miss you! It;s going to be hard to reign in our pathetic lovesick puppy brother without you here as my wingwoman!</p><p>Xo</p><p>Caro</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Sunday, September 13, 2015</p><p>Dear Scrooge McDuck,</p><p>Thank you kindly for your continued investment in my education. I have learned a great deal already here at Pleiades. First and foremost, I have learned how much my roommate Caroline loves money! Listing all the things she spends it on seems to be her favorite topic of conversation, although listing all the things her rich friends spend their money on is a close second. Are all moneyed people like this? Or merely the nouveau riche, like Caroline? Her brother doesn’t seem to do this, but maybe that’s because he’s too busy mooning over my RA to form coherent sentences about his abundance of wealth.</p><p>I dearly hope you, as a person with a cool quarter of a million stuck between the couch cushions to toss at stray orphans such as myself, have other interests in life besides diving into pools of gold coins. But in case you want to add it to the account ledgers you pore over for fun, here are some things I’ve spent your money on this month:</p>
<ol>
<ol>
<li>
<b>Curtains, $29.99, Ikea. </b>They are white with grey chevron stripes on the bottom (I learned what chevron means from Caroline. It’s amazing what they don’t teach you in public school! How did I live my life until now not being able to name zigzaggy fabric patterns accurately?) It was a contentious debate about color schemes, since Margaret’s godmother apparently ruined all of Caroline’s grand plans by gifting her goddaughter a teal and purple bedspread. In the end, Caroline accepted her fate and allowed us to purchase items in charcoal grey, crisp white, and royal purple, but absolutely no more teal, under any circumstances. Not cerulean enough, apparently.</li>
<li>
<b>Extra-long twin bed set in the approved color scheme, $34.99, also Ikea. </b>Did I mention we went to Ikea? It was my first trip! I am no longer an Ikea virgin! Charlie drove over from the city to take us to the Ikea in Stoughton. Ostensibly it was to help out Caroline, who needed to supervise my purchases, but conveniently, Jane-the-enchanting-RA also needed to do an Ikea run. And since Margaret had bible study that night, Charlie picked up Jane’s sister Lizzy from MassTech to fill the last seat in his car. This was a special bonus for me, because Caroline absolutely loathes Lizzy. It’s so much fun to witness her ire being directed at someone besides me for once. Watching them bicker about Lizzy’s potentially horse-filled meatballs was a sight to behold, especially with the ever-placid Jane and Charlie trying to hold their increasingly forced smiles in place. Why is there even a restaurant inside Ikea? It’s at once weird and wonderful.</li>
<li>
<strong>Hypoallergenic duvet and pillow, $78.43, Bed, Bath, &amp; Beyond. </strong>I initially bought the standard bedding set through Pleiades so I wouldn’t have to bother with dragging stuff all the way from Indiana. After the first week, Caroline insisted my bedding was giving her allergies. How does bedding made largely out of synthetic materials cause health problems for a person who isn’t even sleeping in it? Your guess is as good as mine, but I suspect Caroline is just allergic to poor people. I wasn’t going to cave to her complaints, but she was just SO WHINY that I finally gave in. And I’ll admit it, my new bedding is much more comfortable. I donated the old bedding to a local women’s shelter.</li>
<li>
<strong>Dishes in royal purple, $21.99, Ikea.</strong> Since I provided neither the fridge nor the microwave, I got put on dishes and curtains duty.</li>
<li>
<strong>A rug, in charcoal grey and crisp white chevron, $15, student rummage sale.</strong> There’s a sale on the lawn by the chapel at the beginning of the year, where old stuff donated by students the year before gets sold to new students, and the proceeds go to charity. I found the PERFECT rug for the approved color scheme, and so I conscripted Margaret to carry it back with me while Caroline was in away at Mayflower, visiting more appropriately posh folk. Caroline would of course never approve of a second-hand rug from Target, so I told her Margaret’s godmother ordered it from Pottery Barn after seeing pictures of our dorm room. So thoughtful! Margaret did not appreciate this particular deceit, but Caroline already hates Mrs. Bell and her love of non-cerulean hues of blue/green, so I don’t see the harm of throwing her under the bus.</li>
<li>
<strong>A petite wingback armchair in royal purple, $25, student rummage sale. </strong>Another generous gift from Mrs. Bell! It’s quite the luxury to have a cozy armchair in a dorm room, since all our other furniture is standard-issue. The doubles on our hall don’t have room for extra seating, but since we have a triple, there’s a little more floor space. And we need the chair for guests, since Caroline won’t let anyone sit on her bed (“Outside clothes are dirty!”). More importantly, it does an admirable job covering up the mystery stain that came with the rug from Mrs. Bell. Without that chair, the mystery stain would surely give up the game.</li>
<li>
<strong>Bubble tea, countless dollars, the café in the Union. </strong>Why did we not have this in Indiana? What are tapioca pearls and how are they both disgusting and compelling at the same time? </li>
</ol>
</ol><p>Anyway, our room is much cozier now. Even Caroline agrees! I like to sit behind the curtains on our window seat and sip my tea while pretending to study. Don’t worry <em> too </em> much about me becoming a spendthrift, though. There’s officially no more room for furnishings, and I got a campus job last week! Now yours isn’t the only money I’ll be spending! As of this Monday, I’m a security guard at the Pleiades Art Museum and Cultural Center. For ten hours every week, I get paid to sit in a cold art gallery reading textbooks with 95% of my attention. With the last 5% of my awareness, I look out for wayward students getting too close to the art.</p><p>Oh, and I suppose I should tell you how my classes are going, seeing as you’re paying for them:</p>
<ul>
<li>
<em>Intro to American Poetry: </em>Emily Dickinson still obsessed with death. Walt Whitman still weepy about Abraham Lincoln. T.S. Eliot’s presence on the syllabus hotly debated; J. Alfred Prufrock still a pathetic sadsack.</li>
<li>
<em>Math 101:</em> Ugh.</li>
<li>
<em>French 201:</em> French cinema hopelessly depressing. Poor Isabelle Huppert, I swear she doesn’t have any facial expressions besides “persistently downtrodden”</li>
<li>
<em>First Year Seminar:</em> A social anthropology class dressed up as a first year writing seminar. Mostly digital media stuff. I stayed up till three the other night watching all of <em>Carmilla</em> for “research purposes.”</li>
<li>
<em>Sailing:</em> Need to earn both PE credit and WASP credit. This is Massachusetts, after all. My roommate, Margaret, is taking sailing with me. She already knows how to sail, so mostly she’s just making sure I don’t drown. Actually, Pleiades already made sure I won’t drown by forcing me to take a swimming test that involved me treading water in a very old, XXL sweatsuit for ten minutes. All the elastic had gone out of the pants, so they promptly ended up tangled around my feet for the duration of the test. I’m not sure why I wouldn’t just strip off the offending garment in a real life scenario, but I guess it’s good to know that if I am swimming in a lead-poisoned lake someday and a pair of sentient, oversized pants seize me around ankles and try to slowly pull me under, I will be able to tread water with just my hands for a minimum of 10 minutes.</li>
</ul><p>I can’t believe almost a month has passed already. We are already two weeks into classes! At once it feels like only a day has gone by and yet somehow I have been here for years.</p><p>Sincerely yours,</p><p>Little Orphan Judy</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tuesday, September 15, 2015</p><p>Oops! I never made it to mail services to send this. I found it wedged in my statistics book this morning, unsealed and unaddressed, where I shoved it Sunday when Caroline marched back into our room. I didn’t particularly feel like explaining the terms of my scholarship to her, then or ever, so I pretended to be working on my problem set. And then I made the miserable discovery that I had <em> no idea what I was doing</em>. To my enormous chagrin, Caroline is actually really good at math and deigned to help me understand the difference between discrete and continuous variables. I’m sure she only offered so she could lord her superior math skills over me. I suppose I should be grateful I’m not failing stats (this week), but I certainly won’t be doing any more problem sets while Margaret is off at church. Caroline isn’t the only woman at Pleiades who can save me from mathematical doom, or even the only one in this dorm room.</p><p>Caroline is every person I hated growing up, but turned up to eleven. She’s obsessed with image and labels. No external detail escapes her – each one is a measure of someone else’s self worth. Meanwhile, I’m the kid with no stable family who bounced around the foster system until I ended up in a group home for most of highschool. I would like to say that clothes were the least of my worries, but the Carolines of the world never allowed physical appearances to be far from my mind. In some ways, I’m lucky to have gone to the school that I did. School was my get-out-of-Indiana-free card, and I might not have ended up here without it. But I wish it hadn’t been so blonde and suburban and <em> homogenous</em>. Everyone in my classes was the same factory model. The only discernible difference between any of them was whether they looked at outsiders with pity or disdain. </p><p>Caroline would hate being lumped in with the Hollister set from Indiana, but it’s the same story over again – everyone is desperate to stand out, but only within the confines of conformity. Conformity has never been an option for me, but all I ever wanted was to be invisible.</p><p>Pleiades does not lend itself to invisibility. Maybe reinvention is the nature of college, but I think there’s some specific magic to this institution. I haven’t discovered the person I’m supposed to become, yet. But it’s clear from every interaction, be it professors, older students, or campus staff, that everyone here is just waiting for this New Judy to introduce herself to the world.</p><p>Pensively yours, </p><p>Not-Quite-New Judy</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Sunday, September 20, 2015</p><p>Dear Caroline,</p><p>Happy Sibling Sunday! I’m <em> so </em> excited I was assigned to be your big sister! I can’t wait to get to know you better. In the grand tradition of Sibling Sunday, would you like to join me for breakfast in the dining hall at 10? Then we can walk to the chapel together to attend services! I don’t know if you’re religious or not, but the services are non-denominational, and it’s a really sweet tradition. Afterwards, we stand on the steps of the Chapel and sing songs written by students and alums from the 19th century. It’s one of my favorite traditions here at Pleiades! </p><p>Love,</p><p>Jane Bennet (Your RA!)</p><p>P.S. I remember you saying that orchids were your favorite, but I wasn’t sure what kind! I hope these are ok! I thought they would match your room decor best.</p><p>P.P.S. I also baked you some snickerdoodles, but don’t worry! I went to the gluten-free kitchen across campus, so there shouldn’t be any cross-contamination!</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>JERUSHA ABBOTT</strong>
</p><p>
  <em> You are cordially invited to breakfast with your older sister </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>EMMA WOODHOUSE</strong>
</p><p>
  <em> For Sibling Sunday at </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>THE COLLEGE CLUB</strong>
</p><p>Half Past Nine<br/>
Sunday the Twentieth of September<br/>
Two Thousand and Fifteen</p><p>
  <em> With non-denominational services at the College Chapel to follow. </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><b>Char Lu (757) 212-XXXX [09/20/15 9:33]: </b> Hey lil sis let’s get breakfast!<br/>
Meet me in the dining hall in 20<br/>
Happy Sib Sunday!<br/>
Also my bday was last week so i can officially be an awesome big sib and buy you booze now</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><b>To:</b> Frederick Hale &lt;fchale@usna.edu&gt;<br/>
<b>From:</b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/>
<b>Subject: </b> Replacing You<br/>
<b>Date:</b> 9/20/2015</p><p>Dear brother,</p><p>Happy Sibling Sunday! You are too far away, so I have a new older sibling now. Their name is Char Lu and they brought me purple tulips this morning. Apparently they were going to go to buy me yellow tulips, but Caroline’s new big sister, Jane-the-exquisite-RA, steered Char towards purple to better coordinate with her own floral purchase (purple orchids) and our room’s mandatory color scheme (bless Jane and her tolerance for Caroline’s nonsense). Judy’s new sister, Emma Woodhouse, has completely tanked Jane’s efforts of pandering to her new sister by ordering Judy an obscenely large bouquet of yellow roses, evidently a symbol of friendship.</p><p>Emma is <em> quite </em> posh; instead of having breakfast in the dining hall with her siblings like the rest of us plebes, Judy was whisked off to the College Club, a fancy inn cum restaurant on the edge of the lake for visiting dignitaries. Caroline was shooting envious daggers at Judy’s formal breakfast invitation, but Judy told me later that it was weird and stodgy and they only served off-brand tea, unlike our normal dining halls.</p><p>Perhaps you are wondering how it is that I have come to replace you when you have been my only sibling lo these 18 years. Pleiades is simply lousy with traditions dating back to its founding in the late 1800s; one of the earliest is something called “Sister Sunday.” History dictates that on the third Sunday of September, older students are paired up with first years to be their “big sisters,” and guide them through their coming education at Pleiades. The introduction includes the presentation of flowers from older to younger sisters, bonding over breakfast, and attending Sunday services together.</p><p>As with all things, traditions shift to adhere to the present, so in order to reflect our current demographics and acknowledge students who do not identify as female, we now have Sibling Sunday instead of Sister Sunday. And since attending Sunday services is no longer a required component of education at Pleiades, the Sibling Sunday service, undoubtedly the best attended of the year, is one almost completely detached from religion of any kind. While technically led by a minister, our Dean of Religious Life is a Unitarian Universalist, so he barely has any theology anyway. The service could best be described as “hippy-dippy, edging on spiritual.” He talked a lot about trees and aspen groves and made us mimic a rainstorm by snapping our fingers arhythmically while the noise echoed through the chapel. Not really my deal, but it was nice to be able to share it with all of my Pleiades siblings, regardless of background or religious belief. Afterwards, we all stood on the steps of the chapel and sang old timey songs about Pleiades written by alums. You may laugh, but I know for a fact that the Naval Academy has equally weird if not weirder traditions, and this one is sweet.</p><p>Anyway, Char is a fun sibling, even if they don’t quite get me yet. They immediately offered to buy me alcohol, not realizing I don’t drink. Honestly, I think they were just excited they could because their 21st birthday was last week, so we have reached a compromise. I have respectfully requested cooking sherry and a dry white wine for big sib/little sib fondue night next Friday; Judy has never had fondue, which I find to be criminal. Emma has ordered an electric fondue pot for the occasion. Caroline and Jane will be absent, both because they have plans in Mayflower Square that night and also due to any number of dorm violations (electric fondue pot, electric tea kettle, underaged possession and consumption of alcohol) Jane would be forced to either regretfully write up or guiltily overlook as our poor, rule-abiding, complicit RA. Plus, Caroline can’t eat bread because of her gluten-free diet, and what is even the point of cheese fondue if you can’t enjoy it with a crinkly baguette? </p><p>Love always,</p><p>Margaret</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [09/25/15 21:22] </b> Hi Jane!<br/>
How do you get a cheese stain out of carpet<br/>
Hypothetically, of course<br/>
No particular reason<br/>
Just a casual Friday night curiosity<br/>
From me to my RA<br/>
Hope you and Caroline are enjoying the city!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am still incapable of coming up with a title I like, so for now, I've co-opted a line from "America the Beautiful." This song was penned by Katharine Lee Bates, fellow Seven Sisters alum. I thought this line was at least a little more poignant than "I love to spend my days and nights dissecting the slimy frog from marshy bog," a real lyric from a certain seven sister's song book I looked through for inspiration.</p><p>Next time, Fall Break, and a lot more of Emma Woodhouse's scheming.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. October</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fall break has arrived. Caroline suffers an unexpected tag-along in New York, Margaret meets someone distasteful in Western Mass, and Judy stays on campus with her meddlesome big sister, Emma.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friday, October 9, 2015</p><p>Dear Richie Rich,</p><p>Hello from Fall Break! I have the dorm room all to myself. Margaret is on a do-gooder trip in western Massachusetts, and Caroline has followed her brother to New York for the weekend, presumably with the dual-purpose of interfering in his budding romance with beautiful Jane the RA and stalking his best friend Darcy. As with everything she does, I fail to understand Caroline’s position on the matter. Jane is lovely, but Caroline seems to think she is beneath her brother. If anything, I think the reverse might be true. I suspect Caroline’s true motives have more to do with the fact that she hates Jane’s sister Lizzy and wants to put as much distance between the two families as possible.</p><p>Alas, I have nowhere to be this weekend, but that is just as well. Stats continues to perplex me.</p><p>Having the room to myself is less fun than I imagined it would be.</p><p>The first few hours were fabulous, don’t get me wrong. Do you know when the last time I had my own room was? It was in the last nice foster home that I had. I was thirteen, and I stayed there for eleven months. Then Mr. Duncan, my foster father, lost his job. After that, I got moved around to a series of much shittier foster situations until I was permanently moved to the group home where I lived throughout high school. The Duncans were lovely and tried to keep in touch as much as possible, but they eventually moved to Chicago for Mr. Duncan’s new job.</p><p>Long story short: a little peace and quiet is basically a foreign concept to me, and I thought I would absolutely revel in it. But after a silent afternoon drinking tea and slogging through some light, existential French reading in our window seat, I started to feel a little lonely. Maybe it’s the years of having zero privacy that have rendered me codependent with any roommate that crosses my path, but I prefer to view the situation a little more optimistically. I believe that I am finally starting to figure out who I am here at Pleiades. And being surrounded by all these badass, smart women–rather than feeling like an impostor who doesn’t belong, they remind me of why I’m here, and the woman I am trying to become. Being alone in my room, struggling over esoteric foreign literature, well, it’s easier for doubts to creep back in when you’re alone with only your thoughts and some sad Frenchmen flirting with nihilism. </p><p>I knew I needed a self-intervention when I almost just texted Caroline to see how the trip to New York was progressing, so lo, here I am getting a start on my monthly letter. It is certainly a better use of my time than trying to figure out my Stats p-set without Margaret’s interference. </p><p>Hark! I hear someone blasting music from across the hall. I shall go investigate and write more later, unless the source is one of the malevolent ghosts* reported to haunt Pleiades, luring me to my doom with the siren call of catchy pop tunes. </p><p>Goodbye for now (or maybe forever, depending on ghost vengeance),<br/>Judy</p><p>*ALLEGEDLY, a famous alum pushed her maid down an empty elevator shaft somewhere in the neighborhood of WWI. Now she haunts the utility tunnels underneath the dorms. Or, you know, leaky pipes and such. But probably the ghost thing.</p><hr/><p>Saturday, October 10, 2015</p><p>It wasn’t a ghost!</p><p>I forgot that my hall-mate, Emma, is also here for fall break. She stayed on campus to prepare for a presentation during our student conference at the end of the month. It’s a pretty big deal–we get a day off of classes to attend student-led panels and presentations on research projects or internship programs. Emma’s only a sophomore, so it’s unusual that she was invited to present. I wish her luck; the whole process seems terrifying.</p><p>(Emma, it should be noted, is my new big sister. We have a big to-do called Sibling Sunday, wherein all first years are appointed an older sibling to show them the ropes. They bring us flowers, take us to breakfast, and escort us to a crunchy granola non-denominational, non-religious, non-church service. The whole day is capped off by singing old timey songs together on the steps of the chapel. Another of our hallowed traditions that, for all their eccentricities, almost seem normal and expected at this point.)</p><p>Tonight, Emma was taking a study break to worship at the altar of her one true deity, Carly Rae Jepsen. Once I showed up, she extended her break to evangelize to her newly captive audience. By which I mean, she sat me down and extolled the many virtues of CRJ and dissected each and every song on her new album, <em> E•MO•TION </em> <b> <em>. </em> </b> (Yes, that is really how the album title is written out. Emma was very clear on this point.) Then I got a further explanation on <em> E•MO•TION: Deluxe Edition, </em>which was only released in August this year. Emma has many, many opinions about “Favourite Colour,” which only appears on the latter.</p><p>Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the works of Ms. Jepsen. First of all, no, you certainly are not; there is absolutely zero chance you made it through the summer of 2012 without being aurally assaulted by the constant refrain of “Call Me Maybe.” You probably assumed from that outing that Ms. Jepsen would be destined to be remembered in history as a one-hit-wonder, but you would have been wrong. Just this spring, she released a similarly cotton-candied earworm entitled “I Really Like You.” The music video, for reasons that cannot be explained, features beloved American actor Tom Hanks and has been viewed over a hundred million times.</p><p>I was lukewarm at best about CRJ when I entered Emma’s room last night, but her enthusiasm is starting to chip away at my too-cool-for-school disinterested. I’ll admit it, “Run Away With Me” is starting to grow on me.</p><p>Do you think Emma could change her presentation topic to the Gospel of Carly Rae Jepsen? She’s certainly passionate enough to carry it off.</p><p>I suspect the real reason Emma is a ride-or-die CRJ stan is that basically every song on the album concerns some degree of pining. Emma is a hopeless romantic. And by hopeless romantic, I mean she is an olympic-class gossip and meddler. I don’t think she’s actually interested in dating anyone herself; she just wants to matchmake everyone around her. When we had our Sibling Sunday breakfast, she spent the better part of an hour asking leading questions clearly designed to determine:</p><ol>
<li>My sexuality</li>
<li>My relationship status</li>
<li>Barring any significant other, if I have any romantic prospects on the horizon</li>
<li>The type of person I might, hypothetically-speaking, be persuaded to date from her mental contact list</li>
</ol><p>After much deflecting, I managed to throw her off the scent by telling her about Jane’s budding romance. Maybe spreading gossip about our RA’s love-life is poor form, but it’s every woman for herself when it comes to Emma. Better her scheming be confined to thwarting Caroline’s efforts to break up Jane and Charlie than setting me up on blind dates. Both outcomes of this arrangement are suited to my satisfaction and benefit. </p><p>Sincerely from your Apprentice in Meddling (educational dollars at work!),<br/>Judy</p><p>PS According to Emma, who says CRJ has a song for everything, Jane and Charlie have moved swiftly past the “Call Me Maybe” and “I really like you” relationship markers, but Jane is hesitating in the land of  “Favourite Colour,” while Charlie is falling swiftly into “Warm Blood” territory. Emma is worried that if Jane doesn’t open up more soon, Charlie’s going to start to feel very “Your Type,” which can only lead to major sadsack pining of the “Gimmie Love” variety, probably for both of them.</p><p>I’m slightly concerned that I followed her entire train of thought there. I really should have used those brain cells on my Stats p-set, but Emma is at least as hopeless with math as I am. I need Margaret to come back!</p><hr/><p>Sunday, October 11, 2015</p><p>Dear Mr. Monopoly,</p><p>I realize my scholarship stipulates that I send monthly letters, so perhaps writing three days in a row is a little overboard. But I would argue that this is, in fact, just one very long letter, especially as Mail Services is closed over break, and I will be unable to send this very thick envelope off until the rest of the students come back to campus. Besides, I haven’t <em> really </em> given you a thorough update on my education, unless you count edification by way of Carly Rae Jepsen (Emma certainly does).</p><p>Also, I’m still looking for excuses to avoid my Stats p-set. I guess that’s your Math 101 status report right there.</p><ul>
<li>
<strong><em>Poetry</em>:</strong> Mary Oliver is so, so lovely.</li>
<li>
<strong><em>French</em>:</strong> I feel tricked. This is a philosophy class masquerading as a language class. I’m being told that Existentialism and Nihilism and Absurdism are all distinct but vaguely overlapping things, but honestly this venn diagram just feels like a circle.<br/><br/>
</li>
<li>
<strong><em>Sailing</em>:</strong> MASSACHUSETTS IS GETTING VERY COLD. IT IS VERY COLD TO BE OUT ON THE WATER RIGHT NOW.<br/><br/>
</li>
<li>
<strong><em>First Year Seminar</em>:</strong> This is still my best and most fun class! We’re watching a web series called <em>Carmilla </em>right now (you may remember that I, uh, skipped ahead in my last letter and binged all of season 1… instead of working on my Stats p-set). Part of the discussion around <em>Carmilla</em> has been about the history of Queer Coding and Queer Baiting in cinema and it’s all fascinating! I wish I was taking a whole class on this. This unit has the added bonus of helping me be less of an ignoramus around my queer siblings here at Pleiades.<br/><br/>I wasn’t big into social media in high school since most of it was blocked on our school computers, and I didn’t have a fancy phone until last summer (thank you again!!). There weren’t a ton of people who were out in my high school, and those that were were kind of… 1990s mainstream gay? Like, there wasn’t a lot of variation in gender presentation or expression of sexual identity. We had a few kids who were openly bi, but most people believed they were either too scared to come fully out of the closet as gay or lesbian OR people just thought they wanted attention.<br/><br/>(Which, by the way, is really, really stupid. I wasn’t on tumblr and was generally pretty uneducated about queer culture, but even I could see the logic holes there. News flash: being any kind of different in high school sucks. I was a poor, ethnically ambiguous foster kid in a very white, affluent high school, and I spent every damn day trying not to stand out. Being one of the few out kids in a cookie-cutter Indiana high school must have sucked. Adolescence is bad enough as it is; nobody conjures up extra reasons to be bullied and ostracized for “attention.”)<br/><br/>Indiana’s a pretty conservative place, so there’s not a lot of room for a spectrum of queer expression in most parts of the state. Our governor is a noted homophobe who thinks conversion therapy is a swell idea (it’s not!), so you can imagine how many of the people who voted for him feel about LGBTQ+ individuals (not great!). All this to say–I was embarrassingly underinformed when I got here. And honestly, I am still embarrassingly underinformed, but I’m learning, and part of that is because there are really cool people making really cool stuff on the internet about communities that have been historically excluded from traditional media. And I get to pretend it’s homework and talk about it with smart people and <em>basically this class is the best.</em>
</li>
</ul><p>That’s your October academic check-in. Off to find someone left on campus who isn’t a complete dunce for “Maths,” as the very English Emma would say.</p><p>Yours,<br/>Judy</p><p>PS I know it’s not my place to make assumptions about your political views or, even if I knew them, judge you for them. I mean, you’re clearly super rich, so there’s a good chance you’re a Republican. But I really, really hope you’re not one of those Republicans that hates gay people and women. I mean, you’re paying a LOT of money for me to go to Pleiades; you had to at least know you were getting a feminist, right? So let’s just agree that you’re one of those Republicans who hates taxes or whatever but you make up for it by giving piles of money away to poor, feminist orphans and you can totally, totally hang. Right?</p><p>PPS Do you think I could convince my American Poetry professor to add the works of Carly Rae Jepsen to our syllabus? I guess she’s Canadian, but Canada IS in North America. I’m pretty sure I would ace that section. I’ve already got my own personal TA!</p><hr/><p><b>Group Name: Sib Squad<br/></b> <em>Friday, October 9, 2019 9:22pm</em></p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b> @Judy or @Emma can one of you get up at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow<br/>Jane’s sister Lizzy needs to stop by to grab some medicine and stuff for Jane<br/>She’s only the 6:40 bus to NY out of Back Bay, so she’s gonna borrow a car and be on Campus at like 5am<br/>You just need to let her into the dorm</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b> I am available!<br/>For the low, low, price of one (1) juicy tidbit of gossip<br/>Why is Jane’s sister following her to New York in the very wee hours of the morning on the second day of fall break????</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b> V good qs Big Sis<br/>Also how is Lizzy going to get into Jane’s room if Jane is already in NY, presumably with her keys?</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b> Don’t be absurd<br/>Jane never locks her door<br/>She’s far too trusting<br/>Just today I went in and raided her tea cupboard</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b> Ooo did you try her new Lady Grey?<br/>It’s my current fave</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b> It was a white peach and don’t change the subject<br/>I demand payment!</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b> Well.<br/>You know how Jane has really bad migraines?<br/>They drove through a big storm on the way down to NY this morning...</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Ohhhh noooooooooo</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b> Oh yes!<br/>And she forgot to bring her medicine with her<br/>So now she’s in NY with the Bingleys and Darcy, puking her guts out in their fancy-ass UES brownstone</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>OHHHH NOOOOOO</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b> She’s so embarrassed, obviously, because Jane<br/>It’s probably too late for her medicine, honestly, because she missed her window<br/>now she’s just going to be violently ill for like 72 hours<br/>Charlie is trying to convince her to go the ER, but she’s refusing because the ER is the absolute last place anyone would want to be with a migraine<br/>So I guess they’re trying to get a doctor to make a house call tomorrow and give her IV fluids and stuff<br/>But Lizzy’s being a huge diva about it and storming down to New York tomorrow to hover over Jane like she’s some sort of 19th century invalid who’s been caught in the rain<br/>even though the WHOLE REASON Lizzy stayed here for fall break is that she has scary bad midterms next week that she needs to be studying for<br/>I think the fancy house doctor has it covered, Lizzy<br/>You don’t need to be there</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b> Is she STAYING there?!<br/>With CAROLINE?<br/>And DARCY?????</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b> I KNOW<br/>To be a fly on the wall </p><p>
  <b>Emma Woodhouse</b>
</p><p>To see Caroline’s face when Lizzy rolls up all rumpled, smelling like bus<br/>‘Twould make my whole weekend</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b> Honestly idk why she’s even going<br/>Maybe she just wants to hate-flirt<br/>She keeps denying it and acting all appalled whenever I bring it up<br/>But i know that girl and she’s got a massive boner for Darcy</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>HAH! I shall drop some subtle hints tomorrow morning about enemies-to-lovers being the best subgenre of romance</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b> Ah yes<br/>That famed Emma Woodhouse subtlety <br/>Unrivaled tact</p><p><b>Margaret</b> <b>Hale<br/></b>Oh no! Poor Jane!<br/>I hope she feels better soon.<br/>That’s so sweet that her sister is going down to take care of her!<br/>Sorry, just catching up on texts now<br/>I was busy earlier dealing with a dumb man</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b> Oh, a MAN you say?<br/>TELL US MORE!!</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b> NO, Emma<br/>We’re not playing this game<br/>He’s the WORST<br/>He barely said anything except to mansplain wallpaper to me</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Yes! Two enemies-to-lovers for the price of one! It’s a double feature night, ladies!</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b> THIS IS NEVER HAPPENING<br/>He’s a REPUBLICAN even though he’s an IMMIGRANT<br/>HIS WORLDVIEW MAKES NO SENSE</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Wow you super know a lot about this man who allegedly only talked to you about wallpaper</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Yes exactly! It almost sounds like you are interested in him!</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b> This is SLANDER<br/>I don’t care how good looking he may or may not be<br/>He’s reading AYN RAND, for god’s sake</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>So what you’re saying is he’s handsome</p><p><b>Magaret Hale<br/></b> I didn’t say that! I clearly said “may or may not be” <br/>Key words MAY NOT BE</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>But tbh you wouldn’t have brought up his looks at all if he wasn’t hot</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>^^^^^This</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>This is absurd. I’m going to bed.</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>After you give your new, handsome, mystery beau a goodnight snog?</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>I’M PUTTING MY PHONE ON DO NOT DISTURB NOW</p><hr/><p><b>To:</b> Frederick Hale &lt;fchale@usna.edu&gt;<br/><b>From:</b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> #yesallmen<br/><b>Date:</b> 10/10/2015</p><p>UGH WHY ARE YOU ALL SO BAD. I am on this Habitat for Humanity trip with a bunch of people from different colleges around Pleiades and ALL THE BOYS HERE ARE GARBAGE. They all act like I’m helpless and they’re doing me some kind of favor by not letting me wield a hammer for two consecutive seconds even though I DEFINITELY HAVE BUILT MORE THINGS THAN MOST OF THEM. I’m not some delicate ornamental flower! I ended up spending all day yesterday removing wallpaper with Mariah Dixon, which is absolutely the worst job, because they didn’t want us having to “lift heavy things.” MARIAH DIXON IS AN ABSOLUTE BEAST AND COULD BENCHPRESS ALL OF THEM, STACKED ONE ON TOP OF ANOTHER. Then, after spending all day in a hot, sweaty room peeling chintzy garbage off the walls, one of the jerks came in to “help” us by criticizing our technique. As if he could do any better. Then he had the audacity to show “his way” (it’s just the normal way!) and how much faster it was (ONLY BECAUSE WE’D ALREADY SPENT HOURS LOOSENING IT ALL). I was fuming all through dinner, and then my impotent rage kept me awake for hours despite my exhaustion. I meant to get up early to spite-finish the wallpaper myself, but I forgot to charge my phone and my alarm didn’t go off. And when I woke up, THE JERK HAD ALREADY GOTTEN UP AND FINISHED THE JOB. </p><p>HE SUCKS. YOU SUCK. YOU ALL SUCK.</p><p>Love,<br/>Margaret</p><hr/><p><b>To:</b> Louisa Bingley &lt;LouLouB93@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From:</b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> [No Subject]<br/><b>Date: </b>10/11/2015</p><p>WHY IS SHE HERE???????????????????</p><p>I HATE HER SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!! Shes RUINING my fall break, UGH. I’m tempted to accuse Jane of orchestrating this whole nightmare so her dumb sister can swoop in and shack up with Darcy like she herself is trying to do with our golden retriever brother, but no one can deny that Jane has zero manipulation skills. Plus she puked in her own handbag in the car (GROSS) and even though it’s a cheap Kate Spade bag she got on sale she was RELALY UPSET about it, bla bla bla, sentimental value. Charlie went out and got her a new, better one the next morning, but she was still sad about her dumb puke bag. Tldr i dont think she like, forgot her medicine on purpose. Whatever. Fine. Jane is fine. She’s fine. She’s fine! She’s aggressively fine.</p><p>But the SISTER.</p><p>UGH.</p><p>Pls come save me everything’s terribllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeee</p><p>-c</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It has been a minute since I updated this story! Shortly after posting the last chapter, one of my parents got diagnosed with terminal cancer, so things! are! not! great! My family's doing ok, considering the circumstances, but this nightmare has involved a temporary move across country in the middle of a pandemic, to a state that's currently boasting one of the highest new case rates in the world, which will have to become a semi-permanent move in a couple months (at least until there's a vaccine and we can all travel again and not have to live on top of one another in a quarantine bubble). Tl;dr: I'm writing infrequently at the moment.</p><p>This chapter was a struggle to write, not just because of the circumstances in my personal life, but because it really felt like an in-between chapter, just teeing some things up for November. So apologies if it also reads like an in-between chapter. I'm very excited for November; I wrote most of it months ago and had a lot of fun with it. A major plot point is unexpectedly topical right now, so I'll try to get it out quickly!</p><p>Also PS I changed the title again. Maybe it will stick this time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. November</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's time for Thanksgiving at the Netherfield Ball.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunday, November 15, 2015</p><p>Dear Sergeant Moneybags, </p><p>Hello again, good sir or madam! Everything is rather hectic at the moment. Between cramming for midterms, spring registration last week and getting ready for Thanksgiving, Fall break feels AN AGE ago. So much has happened since I last wrote, I hardly know where to begin. I suppose let’s get the academic report out of the way, and then we can move on to the juicy gossip portion of the letter!</p><ul>
<li>
<em><strong>French: </strong></em>B+ for my last paper! Though I have yet to grasp the finer points of existentialist literature, <em>ma grammaire est parfaite</em>.</li>
<li>
<em><strong>Poetry: </strong></em>B on the midterm. I’m starting to think I’m more of a prose woman. </li>
<li>
<strong><em>Stats: </em></strong>Barely scraping by. I’m so glad they don’t count first year grades toward your overall GPA.</li>
<li>
<strong><em>First Year Seminar: </em></strong>I got my first A on a big paper! My professor says my writing shows “real promise.”</li>
<li>
<strong><em>Sailing: </em></strong>Dunzo! The lake will start freezing over soon, so I’m finished with my PE requirement for the semester.</li>
</ul><p>Also, I’ve registered for next term’s classes! More French! Geoscience! Horticulture Lab! After the debacle of my stats midterm, I’m trying to get all the math/science requirements I’m going to inevitably bomb out of the way while grades don’t count.</p><p>The only class I’m particularly keen on is a film class with my First Year Seminar professor on the history of queer cinema. It’s really popular and difficult to get into as a first year, but I got to sneak past the enrollment cap because I’m a teacher’s pet!</p><p>Ok, ON TO THE HOT TEA. Thanksgiving is coming up, and this time I’m not staying on campus. In fact, I had my pick of invitations! Margaret wanted me to come with her to Betsy Higgins’ house in Malden, MA, but she is not the roommate with whom I’m spending the holidays. Against all odds, I will be in New York with one Ms. Caroline Bingley. Not that she invited me of course. Caroline and I may have settled into a chilly détente, but she certainly isn’t going out of her way to spend time with me, nor I her. No, of course, all of this comes back to my beautiful, shameless, madwoman big sister, Emma Woodhouse. </p><p>Emma grew up in England, the daughter of a baron (whatever that means. Technically Emma is “The Honourable Emma Woodhouse," WHICH IT SAYS ON HER PASSPORT, but she doesn’t spread this around too much. As her academic sibling, Emma sometimes calls me The Honourable Judy just to be cheeky). When Emma was 17, her sister (The Hon. Isabella) and brother-in-law (The Titleless John) moved to Manhattan. Emma’s father is a retired, anxious, independently wealthy widower, so during the school year, he lives in the family’s New York <em> pied-à-terre </em> (a term I learned from Emma, having not had any use for the phrase before going to Posh College with Posh People. Surely someone as filthy rich as yourself is already familiar). The apartment is conveniently located directly above his elder daughter and son-in-law’s residence. The location provides the added benefit that Lord Woodhouse can distract himself from his hypochondriacal tendencies by fussing over his grandchildren instead of constantly popping up to Massachusetts to fuss over Emma. </p><p>Emma credits her sister's move as the biggest factor in being allowed to attend Pleiades. With both sisters set to be in the same geographic proximity by for most of the year, she had a major argument for Mr. Woodhouse in her favor. Also, Emma’s dead mother is Pleiades alum. It’s very difficult to argue with dead mothers.</p><p>Emma attending school in the States was conditional upon three things:</p><ol>
<li>Emma must spend all short school breaks in New York with her father.</li>
<li>Lord Woodhouse will remain in New York for the duration of the school year, despite the fact that he hates New York and thinks it is filled with filth and bad vapors.</li>
<li>All longer school breaks must be spent back in the UK on the family estate outside London. </li>
</ol><p>Emma, as you may recall from my last letters, remained on campus for fall break. This is a clear violation of rule #1. Lord Woodhouse nearly had a conniption when Emma stayed to prepare for her presentation. Isabella gamely distracted him by wondering if maybe, possibly, did baby Henry have an earache? Best keep him under Grandpapa’s constant surveillance just to be sure.</p><p>So you see, it is more critical than ever that she celebrate Thanksgiving under her father’s watch eye. Emma declared that I simply <em> must </em> come with her. A short but heated custody battle ensued, and to New York I shall go! (Margaret has negotiated for Christmas break, which I shall be spending in sunny Charleston, South Carolina.) </p><p>How, you ask, does Caroline Bingley factor into these plans? That’s where Emma’s schemes come into play.</p><p>The Bingleys, like the Woodhouses, spend the majority of the year based in Manhattan (they summer in the Hamptons, apparently). Unlike Emma’s family, however, they are nouveau riche, which I guess means they need to be more ostentatious with their money to make sure everyone knows they have plenty of it. So instead of having a normal Thanksgiving with football and Turkey and weird cranberry goo shaped like can, their family foundation is hosting a charity ball to raise money for local soup kitchens! What an incredibly normal, unironic choice, spending a boatload of money on a fancy dinner party full of rich people pretending to care about homelessness and food insecurity!</p><p>Emma was over in our room yesterday afternoon, sipping tea and helping me with my French, when Caroline flounced in with a garment bag and an exasperated sigh. Emma and I said nothing and sipped our tea, sitting patiently while Caroline huffed around some more, waiting to be asked about her woes. The stalemate broke when Caroline couldn’t keep it in anymore.<br/><br/>“It’s <em> so </em> hard to find the right dress for a November gala. You have to get the color just right–wintery, but not Christmasy–and then you have to find ouertwear to pair. Emma, dear, <em> you </em>know how it is.”</p><p>“Hmmm, I suppose, but the outerwear hardly matters. Your driver drops you right at the front door and then you’re depositing everything into coat check. What’s the occasion, Caroline?” Emma nodded at the garment bag.</p><p>“Oh well, you <em> know </em> how much my family cares about the needy, so we’re hosting a charity gala on Thanksgiving to raise money for soup kitchens in New York.”</p><p>“How thoughtful! You know, homelessness is a very important issue to my father, Lord Thomas Woodhouse.” At this statement, Caroline’s eyes practically popped out of their sockets. I don’t think she knew Emma was tilted. Emma cocked her head to the side, as if to mull over an idea. “Well, I suppose his greater passion is public health, but ensuring that proper preventative health care and vaccinations are available to the homeless population is certainly part of that. I would think soup kitchens fall under that general purview. I’ll have to ask him if he’s heard about your family’s gala.”</p><p>“Oh, of course you and Lord Woodhouse <em> must </em> be invited. We would be honored to have you attend. I’ll just text our party planner right now to add you to the list.”</p><p>Emma dictated her father’s contact information while Caroline tapped furiously at her phone. </p><p>“How serendipitous that I was here this afternoon. I <em> so </em> look forward to spending Thanksgiving with your family and guests, Caroline! Thank you again for the invite.”</p><p>“Of course, it was a terrible oversight that you and your father weren’t on the list already. It will be an honor to host a peer at our humble little Thanksgiving party.” </p><p>“Well, as I’m sure you know, my father almost never attends social functions. His health is far too frail. I’m sure he will be more than happy to send Judy in his place, as she’ll be our guest over Thanksgiving. We’ll be in touch with your party planner about our dietary restrictions. Unfortunately, Judy and I promised Taylor Weston we’d meet her in the campus center at half-past–oh no! Look at the time. We’re already late. Ta, Caroline!”</p><p>The glimpse I had of Caroline’s blotchy face as Emma dragged me from the room was priceless.</p><p>That little scene does not even begin to convey the extent of Emma’s evil genius. Later in the campus center, while we were not meeting up with Taylor Weston because we never planned to, I began to fathom the depths of Emma’s deceit. Naïvely, I believed she’d concocted the entire scene on the spot simply to get under Caroline’s skin. Not so. Not in the least.</p><p>In fact, Emma was in the dining hall this morning, musing over the many offerings of the cereal bar, when she overheard Caroline loudly complaining into her phone about the invite list to the gala. Apparently, Charlie Bingley has taken it upon himself to invite the fair Jane, who will be in New York with her sister and staying with her aunt and uncle in Queens. Charlie also extended the invitation to Caroline’s nemesis, Jane’s sister Lizzy, which was bad enough. But once he found out Jane’s entire family was coming up to New York for Thanksgiving, <em> he invited all of them. </em></p><p>Emma decided then and there that we needed courtside tickets to this trainwreck. Continuing to eavesdrop landed her some key intel vis-à-vis Caroline’s appointment with her stylist; from there, Emma lurked in our room, “helping” me with my French homework, all the while just waiting for Caroline’s return, poofy dress in hand, to spring her trap. </p><p>That is some wild, chaotic neutral* energy. Emma terrifies me. She is going to take over the world someday. But first, we’re going to attend this dumb party. I have to stay on her good side on account of the whole world domination thing.</p><p>I don’t entirely believe that Emma’s overprotective father will let her go off to a fancy soirée on Thanksgiving Day by herself, with only a lowly scholarship student as a chaperone. Emma, of course, has a different notion.</p><p>“My father won’t care so long as I’m in New York. He hates Thanksgiving. He thinks it’s a holiday founded on overindulgence, a concept he despises. He believes rich foods and decadence cause any number of diseases because he’s a time-traveler from the 1800s. I swear, he’s still worried about contracting gout. Besides, we’re English. We couldn’t be arsed to do a proper American Thanksgiving. It’s just as well I’m taking you to this ridiculous party instead.”</p><p>While I remain skeptical of Lord Woodhouse’s permission, I suppose Emma has always gotten her way with everything, so there’s nothing to suggest that would suddenly change now.</p><p>Oh no. I just had a horrible revelation. What on earth am I supposed to wear to a fancy gala? You’re rich; please advise.</p><p>Underdressedly yours,<br/>Judy</p><p>*Are you familiar with the game <em> Dungeons &amp; Dragons</em>? I have never played, but at the recommendation of an acquaintance, I started listening to a podcast called <em> The Adventure Zone</em>, wherein three brothers and their incompetent father play <em> D&amp;D </em> together. Perhaps you are one of those rich, geeky shut-ins who has a whole cellar devoted to tabletop gaming. It is, of course, designed by the people who worked on the Lord of the Rings franchise, because you can afford the best. Yes. I have decided. You are no longer the tax-evading Republican brand of rich person; today you are a fabulously wealthy nerd. You have a collection of hand-made replicas of all the swords from every major fantasy franchise, and in one case, an original that you managed to snag at auction. It is the jewel of your collection, the victory of its gain made sweeter by the fact that you outbid your rival collector, J. Higglesworth McTavish III, Esq.</p><p>Now that we have established your nerd cred, I will officially recommend that you listen to <em> The Adventure Zone</em>. But being the big dork that you are, you’ve already started listening, haven’t you?</p><hr/><p>Wednesday, November 25, 2015</p><p>Dear Landed Gentry,</p><p>My entrée into your world has begun. Following our final classes yesterday, Emma and I took the bus to Back Bay and boarded the Amtrak to New York. Being a jaded rich person who likely calls New York "home" at one of your 17 penthouses, you will surely laugh at me when I say that I was rather twitterpated to see the city for the first time. I imagined getting off the train and walking into Grand Central Station. I’d stare up at the vaulted ceiling and bask in the wonder of the artwork and architecture, just like in the movies. I recently attended a post-midterms <em> Step Up </em> movie marathon in the great hall of my dorm (more of your educational dollars at work!). In <em> Step Up: 3D, </em> a movie about two young dancers named Moose and Camille and <em> absolutely nobody else important</em>, the final scene culminates in a romantic kiss between our hero and heroine in Grand Central Station. They are there to say farewell to two minor characters the audience has all but forgotten; these nobodies have decided to take a train to California. In the year 2010. Because they are idiots who don’t understand how modern transportation or geography works. Which is why the movie is definitely, certainly, 100% about Moose and Camille and not these two milquetoast morons.</p><p>Lest you are concerned about the soundness of your financial investment in my education, do not worry. I am familiar with Grand Central from other, “better” films. <em> North by Northwest. Spellbound. Men in Black I </em> and <em> II. Armageddon. Just My Luck</em>, featuring Lindsay Lohan and Chris Pine. You see? I’m very cultured. So cultured, I was fully braced to look like a cool New Yorker when I waltzed into the main concourse with purpose and elegance.</p><p>Did you know, sir or madam, that there are two major train stations in New York? I did not. And apparently, Wikipedia informs me, Amtrak ceased all service through Grand Central in 1991. So not only is the final scene of <em> Step Up: 3D </em>illogical, it is literally impossible. I feel lied to.</p><p>There is a reason they don’t set any romantic scenes in Penn Station. It smells like pee and stale pretzels and some of the schedule boards still have those analog flippy number things and it is just GENERALLY A HORRIFYING FIRST LOOK AT NEW YORK CITY. </p><p>Things did not get less overwhelming once we stepped outside. Midtown Manhattan is a slap in the face of smells and noises and bodies and just too much of everything. Emma, of course, was completely unphased. She may be a sociopath. This theory is supported by what she told me as we slid into the back of a waiting Mercedes just around the corner.</p><p>“Judy, this is my driver, Mr. Larkins. Dear Papa would never approve of me setting foot in Penn Station, which is why Mr. Larkins graciously drove up to Boston this morning to bring us back to New York. Isn’t that right, Mr. Larkins?”</p><p>“Yes, Miss Woodhouse.”</p><p>“It’s been such a long day of driving for Mr. Larkins, so we’ll head right home for dinner with Papa, but Larkins will take us out to the shops tomorrow morning so we can find your dress for the gala. I can’t wait! What else would you care to do while we’re in the city?”</p><p>And that was that. Now I am being forced to lie to the kindly Lord Worrywort, and I didn’t even get to see the inside of Grand Central for my troubles.</p><p>I must go for now; Emma has just informed me that Mr. Larkins is waiting downstairs to take us to Bergdorf’s, whatever that is.</p><p>Your coolest New Yorker,</p><p>Judy</p><p>P.S. The bathrooms at Penn Station are surprisingly clean and well-kept, considering the state of the rest of the place.</p><p>P.P.S. I have returned from The Shopping Trip from Hell.The Honorable Emma Woodhouse is a demon. There can be no other explanation for her nefarious machinations. I’m very peeved with her, but I also now have the most obscenely expensive dress, courtesy of her very heavy credit card, to wear to the gala tomorrow. And bonus for me, said dress includes a very full skirt, so I can eat all the mashed potatoes I want without busting a seam. It also disguises very voluminous pockets, which, depending on your gender expression and history with women’s apparel, is either meaningless to you or an Extremely Big Deal. I hope the coat check has bowls full of fancy dinner mints so I can squirrel a few handfuls away for my future consumption.</p><hr/><p><b>Group Name: Sib Squad<br/></b> <em>Wednesday, November 25 2019, 10:13 am</em></p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>HELP.<br/>EMMA IS TRYING TO GET ME TO BUY AN $1800 DRESS.</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Not true. <br/><b>*I’m* </b>trying to buy Judy an $1800 dress.<br/>She won’t let me.</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Pics or it didn’t happen.</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b> <em>[Image attached]</em></p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>OMG<br/>That dress is gorgeous on you<br/>But Judy is right, Emma, that’s too much</p><p><b>Judy Abbott</b><br/>I CANNOT BUY AN $1800 DRESS<br/>THIS IS MADNESS<br/>Can’t we just go to H&amp;M and get a maxidress or something???</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Sure<br/>we can do that after Bergdorf’s<br/>but you are going to the gala in <b>*this*</b> dress</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Emma the idea of spending $1800 on any item of clothing is unfathomable<br/>You cannot spend EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AMERICAN DOLLARS on a dress for ME</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Idk Judy<br/>Emma’s super rich<br/>And she’s the one who strong-armed you into attending this fancy pants gala for her own amusement<br/>I say let her buy the dress</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>No<br/>No<br/>No<br/>No<br/>Not an option<br/>I’m taking this off and we’re going to a department store for regular people</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Suit yourself but that dress is killer</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Char, you are worse than useless right now<br/>You’re supposed to be on my side as a fellow poor person attending this gala<br/>What are you wearing?</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>If you think for one second I wouldn’t be wearing designer duds if I could afford it you’re out of your damn mind<br/>Emma, will you be my sugar momma too?<br/>I’m wearing a vintage tux I found at a consignment shop and altered myself<br/>Fortunately, my mom was very into traditional gender roles and made me take sewing lessons<br/>So now I can tailor menswear to fit me like a fucking boss<br/>As an added bonus, it makes my mother furious<br/>Especially as I rarely bother to wear a shirt under my tuxedo jacket ;)</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Well I have neither the skills nor the gumption to pull off that look<br/>So we’re going to a normal store and hitting the sales rack<br/>AND THAT’S FINAL EMMA<br/>Emma?<br/>I lost Emma<br/>Emma where did you go</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Hey ladies<br/>Look at this dress I just bought myself<br/>Oops! It’s not my size<br/>Oops! I just ripped off the tag<br/>Oops! The receipt just blew away<br/>On a strong gust of wind<br/>Into a trashcan<br/>Not like wind-litter<br/>But like a super gross trashcan from whence I definitely can’t retrieve it<br/>Oh well<br/>I guess someone else will have to wear this $1800 formal gown<br/>To like a gala or something<br/>Or else it’ll be a big waste of $1800</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>I hate you.</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Hmmm?<br/>Oh look Larkins is here.<br/>Come along Judy<br/>We don’t want to keep Larkins waiting</p><hr/><p><b>Group Name: Sib Squad<br/></b> <em>Thursday, November 26 2019, 5:37am</em></p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE! I wish I could celebrate with you all tonight<br/>You have to promise to send lots of pictures</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Why the hell are you awake</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>Betsy and I are making the pies! Dinner is at 1pm so we have to start early!<br/>Why are <em> you </em>awake?</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Lizzy and Jane’s terrible sisters are marching in the parade and Mrs. Bennet insisted on getting down to the parade route at the same godawful time that they were due to stand around in the cold for hours<br/>To be “supportive”<br/>Jane made snickerdoodles<br/>Lizzy blackmailed me so I am also here<br/>How does anyone in this family share the same bloodline</p><p>
  <em> 8:32am </em>
</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>I would love to find out what kind of dirt Lizzy has on you<br/>That information could be very useful to me<br/>Maybe I can weasel it out of her tonight</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Happy Thanksgiving! I am terrified but excited for tonight.<br/>I think I would rather be eating Betsy’s pies.</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Nonsense<br/>Now get out of bed, you layabout<br/>We have to start getting ready for the gala!</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>The gala doesn’t start for like NINE HOURS<br/>What are you talking about?</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Exactly! We have barely any time to waste!</p><p>
  <em> 10:18am </em>
</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b><em>[image attached]<br/></em>The pies are out!<br/>How goes the parade and the primping?</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Terrible<br/>Never go to this dumb parade<br/>I’m cold and I have to pee and I’m not sure any blackmail is worth this</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>I have GOT to find out what Lizzy knows<br/>Primping is going great! We just got our mani/pedis!<br/><em>[image attached]</em></p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Primping is NOT going great<br/>Tell Emma I cannot wear her dead mother’s jewelry worth TENS OF THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>But it looks so nice! And it’s what my dead mother would have wanted!<br/>Also not to be a pedant but the necklace alone is valued at 125k</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>NOT HELPING</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Emma when you’re done playing Henry Higgins with Judy <br/>I wanna see pics of this necklace<br/>I bet it would look awesome with my shirtless tuxedo<br/>It’s what your dead mother would have wanted</p><p>
  <em> 6:22pm </em>
</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>Our pies were epic<br/>I cannot move. Someone will have to roll me back to Orion<br/>À la Violet Beauregard<br/>Where are my pictures of everyone all swanky???</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b><em>[image attached]<br/></em>Here’s a bathroom selfie of me looking hot as hell</p><p><b>Magaret Hale<br/></b>*fans self*<br/>I have some GOOD GENES in my academic family</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b><em>[image attached]<br/></em>Emma might have some better pictures to share <br/>But I think Judy might be a little too preoccupied making heart eyes at her dinner date</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>Omg. WHO is that dapper gentleman? </p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>That would be His Honourable Grand Majesty Jervis Forsythe Henry Jeremiah Fitzwilliam IV, Comte de Monte-Cristo</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Char, that is <em> not </em>his title or style of address and you very well know it.<br/>His name is Fitz</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>FITZ?!</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>He’s a Senior at GVU<br/>His father is a only Viscount<br/>and he’s ENGLISH for god’s sake<br/>No French titles of nobility here, thank you very much</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>FITZ MCDIMPLES? THAT’S FITZ MCDIMPLES?</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>???</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>Oh my god, he’s even cuter than Judy described.<br/>SQUEE!</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Oh my god, I’d forgotten<br/>She met him at that party<br/>She called him FITZ MCDIMPLES?</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>I probably shouldn’t have told you this</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>But I am SO VERY GLAD YOU DID</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>I am so confused but I need to stop hiding in the bathroom texting and go back into dinner<br/>I need a full explanation of this later</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>Why isn’t Judy sitting with Emma anyway<br/>Emma’s all the way on the other side of the table</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>OH I have a theory about that. <br/>I saw Emma and Fitz’s dad rearranging the place settings while everyone was still in the lounge for cocktail hour<br/>At first I thought maybe they were just playing matchmaker<br/>But while that’s Emma’s game 99% of the time<br/>It would be a weird thing for Fitz’s dad to get in on?<br/>Then this British woman came up to me, handed me her empty champagne glass, and informed me that she needed more of the gluten free hors d'oeuvres </p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>GASP she did not</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>It gets worse<br/>I handed her glass back and told her she should ask one of the caterers about food<br/>To her credit, she looked a little embarrassed and motioned to my tux as if to say<br/>“But you’re wearing pants! That are black!”</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>Wow that’s…<br/>I don’t even know<br/>You’re also not wearing a shirt. Not exactly a standard uniform for waitstaff</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>STILL NOT THE WORST PART<br/>She started asking how I knew the hosts, who I was with, where I was from<br/>To the last I answered “Virginia”<br/>She paused and then<br/>She did that thing<br/>Where she said<br/>“No but… where are you... <b>*from*</b>?“<br/>While she gestured around her face</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>Oh my god<br/>You know I don’t use swear words lightly but<br/>What a fucking monster</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Aw sis, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me<br/>I will treasure that f-bomb for all time</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>I mean, seriously, fuck her so much!</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>TWO F-bombs! Has Christmas come early?<br/>I suppose I did see Santa today<br/>Perhaps that parade wasn’t totally worthless<br/>Miracles do come true!</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>So let me guess, this terrible woman is seated at Judy and Emma’s table?</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Ding ding ding!<br/>After that display during the cocktail hour, I can only assume she’s a well-known racist and they were just trying to put as many bodies between her and Judy as possible<br/>So now Judy is, by the looks of it, charming the pants of the Fitzwilliam clan<br/>While Emma is presumably having to listen to that nightmare human go on about how immigrants are ruining Britain or whatever<br/>Without a doubt, that woman is voting leave for Brexit<br/>Idiot</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>Well if your predictions are true, Emma is being a very good friend. And it speaks well of Fitz’s dad that he doesn’t want Judy having to deal with a racist jerk on Thanksgiving</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>I mean yes<br/>All of that is true<br/>BUT<br/>You know Emma’s still playing matchmaker, right?<br/>Never underestimate Emma Woodhouse’s ability to multitask<br/>Gotta go, I think the demon twins sneaked some champagne and Lizzy’s on a warpath</p><p>
  <em> 7:48pm </em>
</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>I categorically deny all allegations laid at my door<br/>I don’t know what Char thinks they saw<br/>I was merely having a pleasant chat with Lord Fitzwilliam, a dear friend of my father’s, before dinner<br/>I do not admit to tampering with place cards.<br/>I do not admit to matchmaking.<br/>I plead not guilty to all counts of scheming of any kind.<br/>I will concede that Frances Dashwood is both a bad person and a horrible bore, which is why I have sneaked out to the bathroom again<br/>But FOR THE RECORD<br/>Judy and Fitz are very very cute here is another picture of them I took surreptitiously while Frances was busy scolding her husband about being too nice to his half sisters.<br/><em>[image attached]</em></p><p><b>Margaret Hale</b> <b><br/></b>&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p><p>
  <em> 9:13pm </em>
</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Oh my god<br/>I can’t believe you told them I called him Fitz McDimples<br/>You’re a traitor and terrible roommate</p><hr/><p><b>To:</b> Frederick Hale &lt;fchale@usna.edu&gt;<br/><b>From:</b> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b>Happy Belated Thanksgiving!<br/><b>Date:</b> 11/27/2015</p><p>Hola, Hermano!</p><p>Happy Thanksgiving! I’m very disappointed that I didn’t get to spend Thanksgiving with you, but I suppose I can’t blame your study abroad for this one, since I didn’t go home either. I hope Mom and Dad aren’t empty nesting too hard this week, but I’m sure they’re being doted on by all the mother-hen old lady types at church. </p><p>Thanksgiving in Massachusetts is wildy different from Thanksgiving at home. First, there’s the obvious geographic differences–it’s FREEZING here; I don’t know how I’ll survive the winter. I’ve been warned by the locals and upperclasswomen that February is going to destroy me, especially after spending January term back in Charleston. But fall is gorgeous here in a way that South Carolina hasn’t ever been. I love all of the sensations of it; instead of browning salt marshes, you have this explosion of color, oranges and reds and yellow raining down around you every time the wind blows. Instead of that familiar salty, pluff mud smell, there’s something crisp and clean that I can’t quite identify. I’m sure I’ll be more than ready to come home for Christmas, but New England does fall so much better than we do.</p><p>Beyond the chilly autumn breezes and the leaves and the rabid preference for professional rather than college football, there is a sense of camaraderie found in this particular house, a mishmash of traditions and backgrounds all colliding, that feels pure and wholesome and 100% American. Of course I miss sharing Thanksgiving with you and mom and dad, but this holiday away from home has brought me a different set of things to be grateful for.</p><p>As you know, I’m staying with my dorm-mate Betsy Higgins. Betsy grew up a short ways away in a town called Malden, where her father works with labor unions around the state. I don’t know if it’s a product of growing up in South Carolina–a state, I have learned this weekend, with weak labor protection laws and a proportionally small group of workers represented by labor unions–but I am now realizing I know basically nothing about the history of labor rights in this country. So far, I’ve learned little snippets from Mr. Higgins, whose only passions in life seem to be the protection of laborers, his daughters, and the New England Patriots, in that order, but Betsy always drags me away from his lectures with an embarrassed eye-roll.</p><p>I’ve always assumed I would just double major in Spanish and Biology and then go on to med school, but maybe I need to be throwing some history and economics into the mix. Mr. Higgins has <em> many </em> opinions on the role of labor unions and corporate social responsibility in public health. Right now, I’m embarrassingly clueless. Maybe over January term I’ll do some “fun” reading on the history of labor movements as they relate to health care.</p><p>My current educational identity crisis aside, the Higgins residence serves as a bit of home for Thanksgiving orphans. There’s a heap of us here who live too far to go home for Thanksgiving, all crammed into Betsy’s bedroom and sleeping on couches. There’s also a few strays Mr. Higgins brought home from work, who either don’t have family with whom to share the holiday, or again–it’s too far and expensive to travel.</p><p>The result is a mix of ages and backgrounds. We’ve got Young-mi, a Korean student here celebrating her first Thanksgiving next to Matilda, a 60-something accountant who works with Mr. Higgins. Penny Clay from Wisconsin sat next to John Boucher, a union organizer and a widower (Betsy and I were wedged between his three young children). Lottie Heywood of Sanditon, California got to talk shop with Mr. Higgins, perched at the corner of the table on a mismatched piano bench with Mary, Betsy’s little sister. Everyone made their own version of a Thanksgiving dish, which was a fascinating study in geographic differences. Matilda’s Snickers “salad” was side-eyed by several of us, but Young-mi’s peerless japchae should be added to every Thanksgiving table.</p><p>It was a genuinely lovely experience, but what made me miss y’all the most was the pre-dinner grace, or lack thereof. We did go around the table and say what we were each thankful for, but I weirdly missed dad’s mini-sermon he always gives while we grumble about the food going cold. Thanksgiving, I suppose, isn’t an inherently religious holiday, but it is what each family makes of it. It turns out that growing up as a PK has greatly informed how I understand and relate to the holiday, and I felt surprisingly verklempt at how much I missed the religious aspect. </p><p>Mr. Higgins is a lapsed Catholic. I gathered from a few conversations about his work that he seems generally unimpressed by organized religion and only sees its value in the potential for community organizing. I put this together with some pieces that Betsy has confided in me about her childhood–namely, that she was confirmed in the Catholic Church and grew up going to mass until her mother died of cancer, after which they stopped going. I also gleaned from something Mr. Higgins said that her cancer was likely caused by carcinogen exposure in a textile dye plant. She worked there early in their marriage to help put Mr. Higgins through school. The area around the plant is now a Superfund site. Once I put together all these disparate pieces–Betsy’s mother’s death, the loss of religion, Mr. Higgins dedicating his life to providing safe working conditions for low wage workers–my heart broke a little.</p><p>I look forward to celebrating Christmas with more familiarity and less baggage. Of course, your presence is also a boon, which might help compensate for the disappointing lack of japchae on the menu. Also! Have I mentioned that my roommate Judy is coming home with me for Christmas???? I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s adorable, and if you don’t immediately fall in love with her, I will question your sanity.</p><p>Love,<br/>Margaret</p><hr/><p><b>(212) 909-XXXX [11/27/15 11:23] </b>Hi its Fitz!<br/>Really looking forward to Hamilton!<br/>You wanna meet up beforehand and see some of the city?</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [11/27/15 11:51]: </b>Hi!<br/>I would love that<br/>I’ve barely seen anything except the inside of clothing stores<br/>And part of Central Park</p><p><b>The Hon. JJ “Fitz” Fitzwilliam (212) 909-XXXX [11/27/15 11:51]: </b>Emma?</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [11/27/15 11:52]: </b>Yes, exactly.</p><p><b>The Hon. JJ “Fitz” Fitzwilliam (212) 909-XXXX [11/27/15 11:52]: </b>Oh god, she didn’t make you go shopping this morning, did she?</p><p><b>Judy Abbott (781) 489-XXXX [11/27/15 11:52]: </b>No, Thank God.<br/>Her dad didn’t want us out amongst the pestilent crowds<br/>Dear Lord Woodhouse! My savior.<br/>(We went for a walk in Central Park instead)<br/>Hey do you use whatsapp? I actually hate the texting app on my phone and I basically only use whatsapp now because of all the group chats I’m in</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Friday, November 27, 2015, 11:53am </em>
</p><p><b>The Hon. JJ “Fitz” Fitzwilliam<br/></b>All the group chats you’re in, huh?</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Yes I’m very popular<br/>You should count yourself lucky that I’m willing to accompany you to this little play<br/>It’s my first charitable act of the Christmas season</p><p><b>The Hon. JJ “Fitz” Fitzwilliam<br/></b>I’m so grateful for your generosity<br/>I can only attempt to repay you by sharing my superior knowledge of New York<br/>Is there anything in particular you’d like to do?</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Hmmm<br/>I’m not too fussed<br/>Sorry that’s super unhelpful, isn’t it?<br/>I’ve seen almost nothing and have no expectations<br/>Well<br/>I DID want to see Grand Central<br/>But our train went into Penn Station instead, which was a big letdown</p><p><b>The Hon. JJ “Fitz” Fitzwilliam<br/></b>Hahahahaha<br/>We can go there. <br/>How about we meet up tomorrow afternoon and I give you a tour of some of my must-see Manhattan sites?<br/>And then we can grab dinner before we have to be at the theater.</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Perfect! What time?</p><p><b>The Hon. JJ “Fitz” Fitzwilliam<br/></b>2pm? I’m just a couple blocks north of Emma’s, so I can walk down and meet you.</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Can’t wait! See you then!</p><hr/><p>Sunday, November 29, 2015</p><p>Dear Theodosia,</p><p>What to say to you? I write to you from beyond the grave. Last night was a night so incandescently perfect that I simply expired on the spot, overcome by awe and wonder. I saw my first Broadway show. It was also likely my last Broadway show because everything henceforth will be a sorry disappointment after witnessing the splendor and genius that is <em> Hamilton. </em></p><p>I must go back a few days to explain how we got here. </p><p>If you have been reading my previous letters, you are aware that I recently attended one (1) needlessly and unintentionally ironic posh Thanksgiving Gala to support homelessness and food insecurity in New York. At said Gala, Emma and I were seated at a table with a variety of other British-American socialites, including Lord Jervis Fitzwilliam, The Right Honourable Viscount Matlock and heir presumptive to an Earldom back in England. I only know what 30% of those words mean. Tl;dr: his older brother is an earl, but he is also a confirmed bachelor (read: gay) who never had and likely never will have any children. So now Fitzwilliam the Younger is set to inherit, despite the fact that he left England over 30 years ago after falling in love with an American heiress and moving to New York to be with her (a “reverse <em> Downton Abbey</em>,” if you will). </p><p>(Sorry for the sudden change in ink color. I had to go check with Emma to make sure I got his title correct, and I accidentally left my black fountain pen in her room. I cannot go back for it because she was already asking too many questions about my correspondence and its contents. I haven’t told her about my scholarship. She knows my parents are dead, but otherwise I think she is under the impression that I am a regular financial aid student. To disabuse her of this notion and explain my scholarship would lead to too many questions about my upbringing and wholesale lack of family. For now, you are my grandmother. You don’t mind pretending to be my grandmother, do you? I would like to have a grandmother to send letters to. Margaret is always going on about her grandmother. I find myself rather jealous.)</p><p>Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam have one son, Jervis Fitzwilliam, Jr. The son presumably also has a title, but I refuse to learn it on a number of grounds:</p><ol>
<li>I cannot keep up with these fancy British titles. Whatever his style of address, I would have to go ask Emma again, and she already has too many questions about my mysterious, heretofore unmentioned grandmother.</li>
<li>Jervis Fitzwilliam, Jr. is an objectively hilarious name. Fitzwilliam Senior must either have a vicious sense of humor or hate his son to pass that name on. His parents call him JJ, <em>in public.</em> He is an adult man who just turned 22 years old.</li>
<li>I might actually have occasion to mock dear Jervis Junior and his terrible, terrible name in the future; it turns out, JJ is already an acquaintance of mine. I met him back in August where he was introduced merely as “Fitz,” and now I know why. He is a senior at Greenwich Village University, but his cousin goes to Mayflower and is best friends with… drumroll please… Charlie Bingley! The world in which you one-percenters move is really too small to be believed. </li>
</ol><p>And so our table was comprised of myself and Emma, the three Fitzwilliams, their taciturn cousin who sulked all night, and a handful of other English peerage types too dull to mention. I saw remarkably little of Caroline; she and her brother had to sit at the head table with their family. Normally, she follows Cousin Darcy around like a lost puppy any time they occupy the same general radius, but she made herself pleasantly scarce at the gala. Apparently, she can’t stand Fitz to a degree that she steered clear of our table (the feeling seems mutual). She also found herself very busy being horrified by Jane and Lizzy’s rather colorful extended family. Secretly, I enjoyed them all based on my admittedly limited interactions and observations, but they are… A Lot. Perhaps the less said the better. Am I a bad person if I’m a little relieved that their presence made me look like less of a clueless interloper?</p><p>None of this explains how I ended up with tickets to <em> Hamilton</em>. </p><p>Lord Fitzwilliam, being rich, English peerage, is old chums with Emma’s father, so it was his maneuvering that had us seated with his family for dinner. I suppose this is old hat to you, but at very fancy dinners, they have <em> assigned seating. </em> So not only was I supposed to sit at a specific table, but a specific <em> seat </em> at the specific table. Emma and Fitz Senior rearranged our place settings so I didn’t have to sit next to a casually racist windbag (very considerate), but it meant Emma was seated on the other side of a big round table while I was buffered by the Fitzwilliam clan. And since dinner was a big, multiple-course affair, I spent the better part of three hours talking with Jervises Junior and Senior. </p><p>Lord Fitzwilliam–or Jervis, as he asked me to call him–is a kindly, inquisitive fellow who asked me all manner of questions about myself. Fitz seemed to find this very embarrassing and scolded his father for giving me the third degree, but I never felt like I was being interrogated. Jervis seemed genuinely interested in learning about my interests and how my studies were going, but he carefully skirted around any questions about my family (I’m guessing Emma warned him that my parents were dead and not to ask about it. For all her meddling and nosiness, she can be a very thoughtful friend at times.) He said that Emma had mentioned it was my first trip to New York and asked if we were planning to see any Broadway shows over break. I responded in the negative–Lord Woodhouse doesn’t leave the house much, and Emma didn’t want to spend another evening of her short holiday away from her father. </p><p>I expected disapproval at my response, based on his stated enthusiasm for the theater, but instead, his face lit up. </p><p>“Well, this is all very serendipitous! I was just given two tickets to see <em> Hamilton </em>by a business associate, but Rachel and I are busy Saturday night. Besides, we’ve already seen it. You should go in our stead! And since Emma wants to stay home with Thomas, I’m sure JJ is free to take you! Right son?”</p><p>Fitz’s face quickly transitioned through a range of emotions–first horror, then embarrassment, until it eventually settled into a sort of strained cheerfulness. “Um, sure. I think I’m free Saturday night.”</p><p>It was a very awkward moment. I tried a lot of “Oh I couldn’t possibly!” and “I’m sure Fitz has someone else he’d like to see the show with,” but Jervis was insistent. Eventually, Fitz was too, and so I agreed.</p><p>Later, away from his father, he tried to offer an apology by way of explanation.</p><p>“I’m so sorry about my dad–my reaction had nothing to do with you, I swear. I’m really excited to see <em> Hamilton </em>with you. I haven’t been able to go yet and it’s supposed to be amazing. I really think we’ll both love it. This is just so like my dad. I’ve been home from the dorms for two days and this is the first I’m hearing of these tickets, and then he goes to dinner and basically manipulates a stranger into going on a date with his son–uh, not that this is like a date or anything, and I mean you’re not a stranger to me, but it’s not like my dad had met you before tonight and–oh god, I’m making things worse, aren’t I? It’s just–parents! It’s like they go out of their way to embarrass you for fun, you know?”</p><p>Woof. I don’t know, actually. I guess nobody gave him the whole “dead parents” memo. It would be really nice to have embarrassing parents. Fitz’s parents clearly love him so much. They radiate pride around him. And yes, while it is very embarrassing for your dad to basically trick you into going on a date with some kid you barely know, I would take a thousand of those awkward, weird dad moments to feel what it’s like to have parents who love and support you.</p><p>With Fitz’s rambling monologue seared into my memory, I bailed on our uncomfortable conversation as soon as possible. I claimed my friend Char was looking for me (they weren’t). Once we exchanged numbers so we could meet up for <em> Hamilton</em>, I bolted. The rest of the night passed without incident (for me at least; poor Jane had some embarrassing family moments of her own), and Emma and I finally returned to her father’s apartment. I would have collapsed into bed fully clothed, had I not been wearing that stupidly expensive ball gown.</p><p>The next morning, Fitz texted me to make arrangements for Saturday night. By some tacit agreement, we both decide to act like nothing weird had ever happened. Since it was my first time in the city, we met up a little bit early so he could show me some touristy things. The Fitzwilliams live just a couple blocks from the Woodhouses, so we hopped on the subway together and went down to Grand Central Station (finally!). It’s gorgeousness did not disappoint. Screw majoring in English; as long as I’m getting a useless, unmarketable degree, maybe I should study architecture and art history. I had mentioned to Fitz that Grand Central was on my to-do list, and he very sweetly had looked up some things online to show me in the station. I, in turn, told him all about the great movie scenes shot here, and how we were sharing the same hallowed ground that Lindsay Lohan had once tread. He was suitably impressed.</p><p>From there, we took the subway to Greenwich Village, where he walked us around his college. I’m so used to my quiet, residential campus–it must be so weird to go to school in the middle of Manhattan. But then, I suppose he grew up here, too, so maybe I’m the weird one. New York is so consistently overwhelming; I absolutely love it, yet can’t imagine living here. </p><p>After having coffee and pie at his favorite diner, we walked over to the Meatpacking District. I’d already seen Central Park with Emma, so Fitz showed me the High Line–it’s magical. Either by serendipity or design, the sun was just starting to set as we walked uptown. I’m inclined to believe Fitz planned it this way because he’s so very nice and thoughtful. </p><p>Our next stop was a brisk walk through the Garment District so we had time for another surprise before our show–ice skating in Bryant Park! I fell many, many times, but Fitz, of course, played competitive ice hockey growing up. He whined about the rental skates’ inferiority while skating in circles around me, but I forgave him because he dutifully scooped me back up each time I fell down. </p><p>Dinner was a rushed business, as we were having too much fun on the ice rink to be fussed with fitting in a fancy, sit-down affair before the show. This suited me just fine after all the galas and swanky restaurants and personal chefs that come with staying with the Woodhouses. Instead, he took me to a frighteningly derelict pizza place that was easily the best pizza I’ve ever had. I’m officially a convert; no more midwestern deep dish pizza for me; only hole-in-the-wall New York pizza from this moment forward.</p><p>By this late in the evening, we had to practically run to the theater to get there in time, dodging around all the tourists in Midtown and darting into traffic. The experience was at once exhilarating and terrifying–one I’m not keen to repeat anytime soon. But all was worth it for the Main Event.</p><p><em> Hamilton</em>. </p><p>How can I possibly describe such pure and utter perfection? Have you seen it yet? If not, please do so at your earliest convenience. The music is phenomenal; the cast is outstanding. Lin-Manuel Miranda is a genius. Jonathan Groff’s King George is a delight, and <em>holy crap</em> Daveed Diggs. We downloaded the soundtrack onto Fitz’s phone after the show and tried to learn Lafayette’s rap from “Guns and Ships” on our walk home (we failed). You <em>must</em> see this show! Even if you’ve already been, you should go again. You’re very rich; go fifty times if you can.</p><p>I can’t begin to convey how important this show feels to me. To see this diverse group of actors performing this incredible feat of artistry, born out of black American music culture as much as it draws on the traditionally white-washed version of US history–this moment feels significant. Black and other minority voices are still largely missing from the historical narrative, but it’s a huge step forward. Who lives, who dies, who tells your story? It’s not just old white men telling the stories anymore. In an America that feels scarier and scarier every day for anyone who is marginalized, <em> Hamilton </em>gives me a tiny bit of hope for the future.</p><p>I will send a fully-armed battalion to remind you of my love,</p><p>Judy</p><p>P.S. The whole night of the gala, I kept thinking about how small this world of one percenters is. You’re very rich; you <em> must </em> know at least half the people in attendance that night. Perhaps I should feel awkward about naming your potential friends and acquaintances in these letters, but 1) everyone I meet seems to be a world-class gossip so anything coming from me is probably old news, and 2) I’ve sent five months of detailed letters before coming to this realization–I think the name-dropping ship has sailed. Precedent has been set, so I will continue pepper these letters with the colorful characters I meet in the looking-glass world of the super wealthy.</p><p>Do you even read these letters? For all I know, these missives are sitting in a PO box until whatever the statute of limitations on unread PO box mail is runs out and they are unceremoniously shredded. Now that I’ve rubbed elbows with your peers, I’m wildly curious about your identity. Are you an anxious paternal type like Emma’s father? A Fabian socialist like Lord Fitzwilliam? Are you Oprah? Are you bald? I simply must know if you’re bald. You don’t have to tell me your name, (unless you’re Oprah, then you have to tell me or it’s entrapment). Please at least tell me what variety of rich person you are. You don’t even have to respond to my inquiry directly; just send word via your assistant (who I have willed into existence) so that I know how to picture you as I write these letters. It’s very odd to be telling all my secrets (and everyone else’s) to a faceless stranger.</p><p>P.P.S. I dare you not to cry during “Dear Theodosia.”</p><hr/><p><b>To:</b> Louisa Bingley &lt;LouLouB93@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From:</b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b>DEFCON WHATEVER<br/><b>Date: </b>11/29/2015</p><p>Lou-Lou,</p><p>We NEED to do something about Charlie. Count yourself lucky that you and your fiancé stayed in Europe for Thanksgiving. <em> EVERYTHING IS A DISASTER!!!!! </em></p><p>I’ve told you more than enough about Charlie’s obsession with Jane Bennet, my RA/pleiades big sister (ugh, as if I need some dumb big sis/little sis relationship forced on me by some rando school lottery! I already have a REAL sister, even if she’s too far away to help me save our brother from himself). However, this jane business has gone on LONG ENOUGH. Charlie invited her to mom and dad’s thanksgiving charity gala, which ugh fine whatever, like half the people from my dorm ended up being invited somehow. at least all of them have been at pleiades long enough to understand basic table manners and hold an intelligent conversation, even if they can’t afford the price of the gala tickets. But Lou, Jane brought <em> her entire family </em> and they are completely unbearable!</p><p>First there’s her next youngest sister, that snobby masstech asshole I can’t stand. But honestly, compared to her other sisters, she’s could be kate fucking middleton. The next youngest is a freshman at the university where their dad teaches, but she’s honestly too boring to comment on. But then the two youngest are this horrible set of twins who are still in high school. I think it is totally fair to lay all blame of this weekend squarely on their shoulders, because without them, none of the family would have been there and maybe the weekend wouldn’t have been such a complete fucking fiasco.</p><p>Kat and Lydia–those are their names–performed in the Macy’s Parade. They do something called “color guard” which i guess means they wear hideous, bedazzled unitards and throw flags in the air. This much I know, because, <em> during the Thanksgiving charity gala</em>, they picked up the new york and american flags off the stage and started twirling them around. This was (OBVIOUSLY) after they had snuck champagne despite being 16 years old. Their parents are honestly just as bad; Mrs. Bennet was straight up drunk before the first course was even served, and Dr. Bennet just smiled at their antics while Lizzy and Char (family friend who also lives on my hall) tried to do damage control. Jane and Charlie were too busy making heart eyes at each other to notice, but Darcy and I certainly did. If I wasn’t so angry about the scene they were causing, I could have <em> ALMOST </em> felt bad for Lizzy.</p><p>Just kidding she sucks and I hate her.</p><p>The next day, Darcy and I tried to talk some sense into Charlie–he’s falling way too hard, way too fast. You know he’s in too deep because he’s not even listening to Darcy’s advice; he <em> always </em>listens to Darcy. He said we were EXAGGERATING how bad the bennets were (like he would have noticed), and that they probably just felt out of their element at a fancy event instead of a family Thanksgiving (um, exactly my point. Jane Bennet does not fit into our world). He said we just needed to get to know them on a more even playing field, so he told us to tag along with him Saturday night when he was going out to dinner with them.</p><p>Seeing no alternative, Darcy and I agreed to babysit Charlie last night before he did anything too stupid. But we made a major mistake in not getting the full details ahead of time. Oh my god, Lou. <em> OH MY GOD. </em>Last night will go down as one of the worst nights in history.</p><p>It turns out “dinner” was at the Bennet Twins request–Dave and Buster’s in Times Square. </p><p>DAVE AND BUSTER’S IN TIMES SQUARE.</p><p>Do you know what a Dave and Buster’s is? Do you remember when we were little and mom and dad made us go to cousin harriet’s sixth birthday party, and it was in a sticky arcade with horrible pizza and an animatronic rat that sang a knock-off birthday song? It’s THAT, but for ADULTS. And people go there ON PURPOSE.</p><p>Even more embarrassing, Lydia and Kat are only 16, and anyone under the age of 18 has to be accompanied by a 25 year old. Since none of us is old enough to rent a car, Mrs. Bennet came as well. If anyone needed to be chaperoned, it was her. She spent the evening drinking too much (again!) and ordered a dish called “Bistro Steak and Shrimp with Lobster Alfredo Linguine.” It’s marked on the menu as a “D&amp;B Fave,” I shit you not.</p><p>“You New Yorkers are always so fancy with your cuisine!” Then she winked at me as she carelessly sloshed her signature D&amp;B Cocktail, a neon green nightmare that looked radioactive. I just looked up the description on the website just now to make sure I REALLY CONVEYED THE HORROR OH MY GOD.</p><p>“Crown Royal Regal Apple Whisky, granny smith apple, house-made sweet ‘n’ sour and Minute Maid pineapple juice, lit up with a glowing ice cube.”</p><p>The menu proudly boasts that this drink can <em>only</em> be found at Dave &amp; Busters. I GUESS THERE IS A SILVER LINING IN ALL OF THIS.</p><p>Lydia and Kat were, predictably, just as bad as they were on Thanksgiving, although at least they didn’t have ready access to alcohol here. Mrs. Bennet (when she wasn’t adding to the generally sticky ambiance by spilling her drink everywhere) went on and on about how talented her twins are at… wearing ugly spandex and twirling flags to music, I guess? The middle bennet sister read a book. I wanted to die. Darcy was on the verge of apoplexy. I’m not totally sure what apoplexy is, but whatever it is, Darcy was definitely 75% of the way there. Lizzy looked mega embarrassed by her family (that part was a tiny bit satisfying). Jane nervously sipped at her frosé, which is a DUMB DRINK TO DRINK IN NOVEMBER. Charlie, of course, was oblivious to everything.</p><p>Dave &amp; Buster’s wasn’t even the worst part of the night. The worst part was when I stepped outside to try to call you, but you were asleep because stupid time zones. And there, on the street looking infuriatingly cute in black cigarette pants, ankle boots, and a Burberry trench (an outfit <em> I KNOW </em> she didn’t pick out herself, goddamn Emma Woodhouse), was JUDY MOTHERFUCKING ABBOTT, hand in hand with Darcy’s cousin Fitz. I, like an idiot, asked if they were there to meet up with Darcy and me at Dave and Buster’s. Judy looked confused, and Fitz just started <em> LAUGHING AT ME</em>. </p><p>They were not going to Dave &amp; Busters. Running into them was a complete coincidence. They’d just come from dinner, probably at a NORMAL RESTAURANT WITH EDIBLE FOOD, and were on their way to the Richards Rogers Theatre. To see <em> Hamilton</em>. A SHOW I HAVE YET TO SEE. And now my backwoods Indiana roommate has seen it BEFORE ME, on what looked to be a highly grammable date with someone way above her station, WHILE I WAS TRAPPED IN DAVE AND BUSTER’S IN TIMES SQUARE WITH THE BENNETS. And JUDY KNOWS THIS. I can never go back to school now. The shame is too much to bear.</p><p>COME HOME AS SOON AS YOU CAN MANAGE. WE’LL NEED ALL HANDS ON DECK OVER CHRISTMAS TO STAGE AN INTERVENTION.</p><p>-C</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Per usual, I'm way behind schedule. I've had 99% of this chapter completed for months, but struggled to wrap up Margaret's Thanksgiving in a way that felt true to the events of the book. Out of all of the stories, hers follows the events of the book the least closely, but I hope I'm still true to the characters as much as I can be (although, I refuse to write Bessie Higgins as a sad sack invalid waiting around to die. I realize the mid-19th century was a different time period, but as a disabled/chronically ill writer of the 21st, I cannot let that shit ride in any time period).</p><p>I'd hoped to get this out closer to the release of Hamilton on Disney+, since that was a fun coincidence of timing, but such is 2020. I also know that some of the discourse around Hamilton and LMM today is less glowing than Judy's is in this chapter, but keep in mind this is set in 2015. Obama was still president and the world was a wildly different place in many ways (and yet not at all in others). It's not that there aren't valid criticisms of Hamilton that exist. These have been amplified by the broader viewership and social context of 2020, but were still true to varying extents in 2015. However, I think it would have been disingenuous to Judy's characterization to highlight some of these criticisms more prominently in this chapter. She would have loved it, full stop.</p><p>Also, I don't think I've ever delighted more in writing a scene than when I put Caroline Bingley at a Dave &amp; Buster's in Times Square. Midtown Manhattan, in case you can't tell from my scathing descriptions, is my least favorite place in the world, and I genuinely can't think of a worse time to be had. Some day, I will manage to write myself into liking Caroline Bingley and stop torturing her at every turn, but today is not that day.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. December</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Exams are taken, Christmas presents are purchased, and Margaret tries her hand at matchmaking.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Goup Name: Sib Squad<br/></b> <em> Monday, December 8, 2015 7:22 pm </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Hey so like not to be nosy but<br/>What’s going on with Jane<br/>I just saw her in the dining hall and she looks absolutely shattered<br/>And i don’t think it was about finals <br/>I know for a fact that she’s already turned in two of her term papers</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b> I’m not sure... <br/>Maybe she’s sad because Charlie left early for break?</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>ALREADY? Classes aren’t even finished yet!</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b> According to Caroline they ended last week at Mayflower<br/>And he doesn’t have any exams to sit, so he and Darcy left already for “family reasons”<br/>Whatever that means<br/>They’ll just submit final their papers remotely</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>Oh her poor little romantic heart! Missing her beau already! That’s so sweet!</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b> Yeah maybe<br/>Or maybe it’s something to do with the fact that he didn’t tell her he was leaving early<br/>Or say goodbye<br/>Or answer any of her subsequent calls<br/>And is leaving all her texts on read</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>??!?!?!</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>?!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>?!?!??!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!??!??!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????!?!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!</p><p><b>Margaret Hale<br/></b>Oh no! That’s AWFUL! Poor Jane! I hope Charlie has a really good explanation! And that everyone’s ok!</p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b> He’d better be in fucking traction <br/>After having broken all his bones<br/>And also have amnesia<br/>Or Lizzy Bennet is coming for him</p><p><b>Emma Woodhouse<br/></b>    </p><p><b>Char Lu<br/></b>Precisely.</p><p><b>Judy Abbott<br/></b>Say no more, I want plausible deniability.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><b>To:</b> Charles Bingley &lt;charles.bingley@gmail.com&gt;, Louisa Bingley &lt;LouLouB93@gmail.com&gt;, Mom &lt;marilyn.bingley@gmail.com&gt;, Dad &lt;christian.g.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> Xmas List<br/><b>Date: </b>12/10/15</p><p>As requested, here is my xmas list for this year. pick ur poison:</p><ul>
<li>Those louboutin ankle boots i want with the spikes – loulou knows the ones</li>
<li>New diamond nose stud, but I ONLY want conflict free. Blood diamonds are like, super bad, i don’t want to wear murder or genocide or whatever on my face. Not too big, i don’t want magpies flying at me. Also friendly reminder that i’m allergic to all metals except platinum</li>
<li>Upgrade on my plane ticket to London (I’m in business class rn, THIS ONE’S FOR YOU DAD)</li>
<li>New silk jammies (i know your buying these anyway Charlie so make sure you get loulou to pick out ones I will like so we don’t have a repeat of xmas 2013)</li>
<li>Framed portrait of RBG for my dorm. Something cool and pop-arty, pls</li>
<li>Embossed leather luggage tags (for my christmas stocking)</li>
<li>Sephora gift card cause I’m almost out of eye creme!!!!</li>
</ul><p>xx</p><p>-C</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Saturday, December 12, 2015</p><p>Dear Oprah,</p><p>I have yet to hear back from your assistant concerning your identity. At this point, I can only assume that you really are Oprah, and you are weighing your options now that I’m onto you. I have so many questions. Do you genuinely like Tom Cruise, even though he’s a big Scientology weirdo, and his marriage to Katie Holmes was clearly a sham? How do you feel about that bee meme? Will you teach me how to garden? I’ve always wanted to learn how to garden.</p><p>Speaking of gardening, I am getting excited to take Horticulture Lab next term, but first I must survive finals week: two term papers and two exams to sit. My First Year Seminar paper is mostly finished, but I need to take my draft to the TA to get some feedback on cleaning it up for submission. The primary problem is that I picked a topic that is far too big and interesting to be covered within the 10 page limit. I’m writing about whether or not the proliferation of new media created for and by groups of people who have been historically marginalized actually helps to promote visibility for those groups, or if the nature of distribution of new media and internet algorithms is such that these works exist for a niche, but not a mainstream, audience. Not only is there not enough existing academic writing to support my research, but trying to understand the intricacies of how Netflix or YouTube’s recommendation algorithms are impacting who sees what content is way above my paygrade. At some point, I just need to give up, submit my paper, and let the chips fall where they may. Grades for first years don’t count towards our overall college GPA, thank God.</p><p>Exams are wearing on everyone, even the perennially unconcerned, cool-as-a-cucumber Caroline Bingley. You’d think from the way she talks, texts, and generally acts that she would be a worthless student, but much to my chagrin, Caroline seems to be academically competent after all. As far as I can tell, she just rolls her eyes, makes a demeaning comment about public education in this country, and then – voilà! – her schoolwork is magically complete. I accidentally saw her Economics midterm – 98%!!!!! Infuriating! But my time has come. Caroline is finally stressed and miserable, just like everybody else scrambling to learn everything on the syllabus in time for finals. </p><p>Reading period started on Wednesday, so there’s no more classes. Just late nights at the various libraries around campus (now open 24 hours!), fighting for the best carrels. I’ve been camped out in an A+ spot on the second floor of the main library for two days. There’s a massive wall of windows, and I’ve got one of the big comfy chairs overlooking the snow falling on the lake. I’ve only left for meals (alternating with an equally territorial Junior in the next nook over so nobody takes our spots), and Margaret kindly brought me some fresh sweatpants this morning on her way back to the science library. Apparently Caroline also didn’t come home last night; Betsy Higgins saw her near the Econ department getting study help from a Junior (coincidentally, my friend Char). While I feel for Char for having to deal with her, a tiny, vindictive part of me took perverse delight in hearing that Caroline was mid-meltdown when Betsy spotted her. Hah! Crying in public over Econometrics! Who’s a perfect student now, Miss Prep School?</p><p>Caroline can take heart in the knowledge that she’s not the most embarrassing story circulating campus this week; rumor has it that a sophomore brought a sleeping bag to the science library, took off her jeans to sleep, kicked off the sleeping bag in the night, and was found pantsless in the stacks by one of her professors. Hard to imagine who was more distressed by the scene, professor or student? Could be worse, Caroline!</p><p>Once I survive finals (including the dreaded Math 101 final), I’m off to Charleston, South Carolina to spend Christmas with Margaret’s family. I’m very excited to have a place to go over break, but planning for the holidays did necessitate a long-overdue conversation with Margaret about my foundling origins. When we were discussing where I might go for Thanksgiving – an occasion for which many further-flung students don’t go home – Margaret gently prodded me about my Christmas plans. Apparently, I haven’t been as subtle as I hoped about my complete lack of family. Or at the very least, Margaret found the fact that I’ve literally never mentioned my family in her company to be a little suspicious. Thankfully, she didn’t press me for details (too polite), but we did establish that I am 1) an orphan, 2) resentful of Grier, Indiana and everyone who lives there, and 3) homeless for the holidays. So instead of applying for special permission to remain on campus for break, I’ll be spending two weeks in South Carolina with the Hales!</p><p>Among other festive activities, I’m told we will make many trips to the beach and go sailing (this counts as “festive” in South Carolina, I guess). As a heretofore landlocked landlubber, the promise of seeing the ocean for the first time is enough to make up for the cognitive dissonance of a holiday season filled with sand instead of snow. And while there is no chance of an actual White Christmas, Margaret has promised (read: threatened) that we will re-enact the “Sisters” scene from the film <em> White Christmas </em>for her family – an especially grim prospect as her dashing Naval Academy brother, Frederick, will be witness to my humiliation.</p><p>But first, I must figure out what the hell the difference is between variance and covariance before I get caught hyperventilating in the library like a regular Caroline Bingley. Can you believe we were supposed to learn the entire textbook for this course? I certainly didn’t manage that.</p><p>Happiest holidays from your favorite orphan,</p><p>Judy</p><p>P.S. I have included a portrait of you; you’re welcome! Feel free to frame it and hang it somewhere special, like your bedroom, or over your favorite fireplace (I assume you have several).</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Friday, December 18th, 2015</p><p>Dear Oprah,</p><p>Yes, you are still Oprah. I’m taking this theory and running with it.</p><p>Hello from sunny Charleston! Margaret and I finished our exams early so we could fly down last night and beat the holiday rush. Reverend and Mrs. Hale met us at the airport with hugs and thermoses of hot chocolate (sweet but overkill, as it was a balmy 63˚F when the plane touched down). I met them briefly when we moved into the dorms, but they only improve on further acquaintance. Very welcoming and hospitable, much like Charleston itself, with its pineapple-dotted fences and chatty strangers on the street. Even though I grew up in the similarly friendly midwest, I’m experiencing a touch of culture shock after being in New England for this long. </p><p>This morning, I went to the beach and saw the Atlantic Ocean for the first time. It was only 20 minutes from downtown, but we had to drive over three bridges to get there. Charleston is simply lousy with bridges! There is a famous race held here in the springtime where they shut down the biggest, fanciest bridge so tens of thousands of people can run across it. Margaret said that when she was little, the bridge in question was built on top of two older, scarily dangerous bridges, which is part of the reason the new one is so tall. She remembers walking across one of the old bridges with her family right before it got shut down, and at the top of a crest, the bridge was swaying so much that she felt like she would get tossed over the side. Even today, on the much more structurally sound, modern bridge, members of the local military school are not allowed to march in step across the bridge – something about the physics of that making bridges dangerously unstable. Science is wild! I would consider following up my fun new bridge facts with some structural engineering classes at MassTech if Math 101 hadn’t been such a fiasco.</p><p>Anyway, three bridges later, we made it to the beach! (One of the bridges had the whole middle section swing sideways off the road to let boats through! Who knew there were so many different varieties of bridges!) At last, I have officially dipped my toes into the Atlantic. It is both more and less than I expected. A beach is a beach, no matter if it’s the bitterly cold shores of Lake Michigan on an ill-timed school field trip or the picturesque barrier islands of South Carolina. But the full sensory experience is something I wasn’t quite prepared for. While there’s much familiarity to be found at Lake Michigan – the ever-changing light reflecting off the water, the sound of the waves and the wind, the feeling of the sand in between your toes – these similarities only seem to highlight how different the ocean is.</p><p>Salt water has a smell, did you know? Or at the very least, according to Margaret and her biology major, the organisms that live in salt water have a distinctive sulfuric odor, something about decaying phytoplankton as it’s broken down by bacteria. (Much grosser and less poetic than just saying, “the smell of the sea,” but if you go to the beach with a microbiology enthusiast, you get what you get.) It’s not just the oddly pleasant scent of rotting marine life that is so new and specific to me. It’s the way the salt feels in the air, on your skin. And most especially, there’s a taste to the air, something beyond just the scent, that sits on your tongue when you take a deep breath.</p><p>What surprised me more than anything was that I didn’t rate the ocean any differently than I do the freshwater beaches in the midwest. It’s neither better nor worse, just its own distinct thing. My childhood was mostly bad, and I so despised high school that the last five months have been almost solely about escape, running from those bad memories. So much emotion feels tied to physical spaces, and I’ve deliberately worked to put as much distance between myself and Indiana as possible. Imagine my shock to find myself looking back on a piece of my childhood experience and finding only indifference. Is this what growth feels like?</p><p>This introspective musing will have to wait. The Hales have just returned from picking up their prodigal son from the airport. Frederick is two years Margaret’s elder and a junior at the Naval Academy. He’s been doing a semester abroad in Spain, and Margaret hasn’t seen him since the beginning of June. She’s SO excited to see him, and for me to meet him. Tomorrow we shall put all our ritzy New England college sailing training to the test! Margaret grew up sailing of course, but she suffered the cold, early mornings on the lake with me this past semester. Apparently the boat we’re taking out is much bigger than I’ve experienced, which makes sense. Margaret and I had to practically sit on top of one another in the school-issued dinghies we sailed. We definitely wouldn’t have been able to squeeze Frederick in there, too!</p><p>Warmest wishes,</p><p>Judy</p><p>P.S. As you will have already noticed from the fact that this letter came in a box and not an envelope, I have enclosed a small holiday gift from Charleston! These are called benne wafers, and they are the most addictively delicious thing I have ever eaten. Enjoy! I hope you don’t have a sesame seed allergy (is that a thing?) or that these don’t slowly rot, undiscovered in your P.O. box, while you’re gallivanting elsewhere for the holidays.</p><p>P.P.S. I have also included a jar of homemade candied citrus peel. It’s a Hale family Christmas tradition. Mrs. Hale is obsessed with citrus of all varieties. They have a little sunroom built off the back of the house that she unironically calls “the orangerie.” It houses no less than five mature citrus trees – two kinds of limes, a satsuma, some other type of orange, and something called a “Ponderosa lemon,” which, no joke, produces lemons the size of grapefruits. Everyone was <em> so </em> excited about sharing the candied peel tradition with me. It’s such a popular delicacy in this family that everyone gets issued their own labeled jar to prevent squabbling over who ate more than their fair share (tragedy of the citrus peel commons). In a big show of welcoming me into the Hale family home, I was presented with the biggest jar. Only, it turns out that candied citrus peel is very much not my thing. I am loath to admit as much after the whole production with the jars, so I snuck mine into this box, much like a child surreptitiously feeding their Brussels sprouts to the family dog under the table. I hope it is more to your liking, or at the very least, wards of scurvy. We can’t have you succumbing to scurvy this holiday season.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>December 26, 2015</p><p>Dear Father Christmas,</p><p>You sneaky, jolly, red-suited, rosacea-sporting man!* On Christmas Eve, we had a last-minute surprise delivered to the Hale’s front door: a whole-ass potted Lumia tree, aka the “pear lemon.” Mrs. Hale was beside herself. I had a moment of panic when I saw that the card nestled inside the branches had a lovely watercolor of a partridge on it – surely this was not going to be the whole “12 Days of Christmas” song and dance??? Nothing good could come of reenacting that story. In the wise words of Walt Kelly, “Far’s I can figger out, this boy in ‘<b>Twelve Days of Christmas</b> ’ was a <b>burglar</b> , and his girlfriend was a <b> <em>fence</em></b>!”** But I was never so surprised as to discover that the holiday citrus pun was, in fact, a gift from YOU. How did you even manage this so quickly?! My last letter must have just gotten to you a couple days ago, at the earliest! And yet you knew to send an obscure citrus tree to Mrs. Hale! HOW?</p><p>Even more surprising was the $1000 gift card you enclosed for me, along with explicit instructions to spend it frivolously. ?!?!??!?!??!?! You do realize that you already provide me with a very generous living stipend in addition to paying my full tuition, room and board? I hardly need another $1000 of play money. Nonetheless, thank you for your EXTREME generosity. Would you like to know what you have bought me for Christmas?</p><ol>
<li>
<b>Hot water bottle and cover, $14.95<br/></b><br/>I’m headed back to campus for January term, the only one of my roommates to do so. It is rather drafty in our room, so I’ll need the extra heat. I’d never seen a hot water bottle before this Christmas; they seemed a quaint idea, relegated to the pages of historical novels, like heated bricks in a horse-drawn sleigh. But the Hales have several brought over from England by Margaret’s godmother, Mrs. Bell. Apparently they’re still commonplace there. And, wouldn’t you know it, they’re readily available in this country via a popular online retailer. I have ordered one that comes in a cute little sweater with covered in galloping reindeer.<br/><br/>
</li>
<li>
<b>Twin flannel sheet set, $139<br/></b><br/>I know, I KNOW. Caroline has poisoned my brain. You did dictate “frivolous,” and nothing says frivolous like luxury sheets. They’re going to be so cozy in our freezing tower when I’m all by my lonesome. Plus, they would have been even MORE expensive, but I had a discount code from a podcast. So $139 is actually a steal, you see??<br/><br/>
</li>
<li>
<b>Silk long underwear, $44.95<br/><br/></b>Are you sensing a theme yet? I’ve been promised that Pleiades is <em>very </em>cold in January. And while silk certainly sounds frivolous, it’s allegedly much warmer than other fabrics. (As someone who has only ever owned cotton long underwear, I wouldn’t know. Will report back!)<b><br/><br/></b>
</li>
<li>
<b>Smart gloves, $30<br/></b><br/>There’s nothing particularly smart about these gloves. They’re just normal gloves. However, they have some substance woven into the fabric that allows you to use touch-screen devices while wearing them – essential for Massachusetts winters.<br/><b><br/></b>
</li>
<li>
<b><b>Smart watch, $349, with an optional leather band, $49</b></b>
<p>Truly the most frivolous purchase of all! I’m honestly ashamed to admit to this one because I absolutely do not need such an extravagance. It was extremely on sale when I bought it this morning, but I am not sure that makes it better. A watch that normally retails at $550 is surely not a watch that anybody needs! My justifications are as follows: 1) I can set a vibrating alarm that wakes me up without disturbing my roommates who do not have an 8:30 horticulture lab all the way across campus; 2) I won’t have to dig through endless pockets of outerwear trying to find my phone just to see what time it is. These are weak justifications, I know. The truth is, I like nice things, I haven’t had a lot of nice things in my life, and I wanted this. If this were a purely practical purchase, I wouldn’t have spent an extra fifty dollars on a more aesthetically pleasing watch band. It’s all very disappointingly bourgeois of me.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p><strong>Donation to the local food bank in Rev. and Mrs. Hale’s name, $250</strong></p>
<p>The Hales are big supporters of the local food bank, especially this time of year. I’ve learned from them that there are still a lot of race issues in Charleston, or as much as I can learn through the lens of a relatively wealthy white family who has been here for some generations. I haven’t faced any overt racism since coming here – not to say that it doesn’t happen, but in my short tenure here, everyone I’ve met has been extremely polite and welcoming. That said, it’s noteworthy in and of itself that I’ve almost exclusively met white people. I was very aware that I was one of only a few people of color in the Hale’s church on Christmas Eve. There was one token Black family and a handful non-white kids that had been adopted into white families.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, there is a huge Black population in this city, but Charleston is wildly segregated at every level. One of the many, many structural issues is that a lot of the Black neighborhoods are situated in food deserts, and access to public transportation in these areas has continued to decline. Hence the Hales’ involvement with the food bank.<br/><br/>My feelings on this topic are incredibly confused. I’m so glad that the Hales do what they can to promote racial and economic equality in this city, and really, the work they do with the food bank is just the tip of the iceberg. At the same time, I’m not blind to the fact that both Margaret and her brother went to private school growing up, partly because the racial history in this city is such that the public schools they would have attended are predominantly Black and wildly underfunded. Margaret’s mother comes from generational wealth that, not too long ago, was propped up either directly or indirectly by the slave trade. The Hales live in a city (and frankly, a country) that, no matter how much people are filled with good intentions and kind to everyone around them, is rife with racism. Charleston is still grieving from the Emmanuel AME shooting this summer, when a horrible, bigotted, hateful man murdered nine innocent people for no other reason than he was a racist monster.<br/><br/>I can’t wrap my head around it. How do I reconcile the existence of kind, self-reflective people like the Hales spending their time and money trying to ameliorate the symptoms of systemic racism, all while they continue to live comfortably within and benefit from that system? How do <em>you</em> reconcile this in your own life, with all the money you clearly have? By giving lots of it away, I suppose. Am I complicit in perpetuating an inherently unjust system by going to an absurdly expensive private college? Or am I helping to even the score just by being there, given my background? Is it both? Neither? Gah! I knew I shouldn’t have bought that bougie smartwatch! I’M PART OF THE PROBLEM, AREN’T I?<br/><br/>These thoughts are too heavy for the day after Christmas. Tl;dr: I gave $250 of your money to a food bank. It won’t fix racism, but it will help some families to have food on the table.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p><b>Two “adopt-a-vaquita” certificates, $55 each</b></p>
Have you ever heard of a vaquita? It’s simply the cutest animal you’ve never seen, and it’s horribly endangered. They look like a cross between a dolphin and a manatee, and there are only 60 or so left in the world due to illegal fishing (not even of vaquitas! They’re just collateral damage! In the quest for some fish’s BLACK MARKET SWIM BLADDER! Absolutely! Appalling!). Freddy told us about them during our sailing adventure last week. We accidentally ran aground (oops!) and had to wait for the tide to come in to make our escape. While we were waiting, a pod of dolphins decided to come near us and laugh at our plight, VERY exciting. There were SIX of them! Freddy once took a class on marine mammals, and, when he’d run out of dolphin facts, he told us all about vaquitas. After showing us a picture on his phone, we’re all three deeply concerned about their plight, so I found a conservation organization that allows you to “adopt” a vaquita. (Don't worry, I did my due diligence! The organization checks out!) I purchased one for Margaret and one for Freddy. I think the program is primarily aimed at children, but we are all children at heart, no?<br/><br/>I have enclosed a little ink wash doodle that Freddy painted for me as a thank you. I felt this should be forwarded on to you, as it is your money. (Don’t worry, I scanned a copy before sending it off to you, and I have a lovely little sailboat study he did that is just for me.)</li>
</ol><p>Ho ho ho,</p><p>Judy</p><p>*Obviously I still believe you are secretly Oprah, but for the purposes of this letter, you are Santa Claus. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you tacitly acknowledged receipt of these letters but have conspicuously sidestepped the Oprah question.</p><p>**One of the Hale Christmas traditions is that Rev. Hale reads aloud from his collections of <em> Pogo</em>, an old newspaper comic about some anthropomorphic animals living in Okefenokee Swamp. Apparently, there are several strips relating to Christmas carols, including, most famously, “Deck Us All with Boston Charlie," to which I was forced to sing along (“swaller dollar cauliflower alley’garoo!”). It was very weird to participate in this tradition, but I must admit to being charmed.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><strong>To:</strong> Edith Shaw &lt;edithshaw@gmail.com&gt;<br/><strong>From:</strong> Margaret Hale &lt;margaret.m.hale@gmail.com&gt;<br/><strong>Subject:</strong> Congratulations!!!!<br/><strong>Date:</strong> 12/26/15</p><p>OF COURSE I WILL BE YOUR MAID OF HONOR! What else are cousins for?! I’m sorry our facetime cut out. It must be *so hard* having unreliable internet when you’re on a boat, sailing around Corfu with your newly minted fiancé! </p><p>I think you said beginning of June before you cut out – HOW are you going to plan a wedding in less than six months (while still in school!)? You absolute madwoman! I know you’re one of those I’ve-been-imagining-my-wedding-since-I-was-six-years-old types, but still! Planning a wedding is no joke! Let me know the date as soon as possible so I can figure out how to make it work with my summer internship. I have a bunch of application deadlines in February, so I definitely need to know before then.</p><p>Call me when you’re back on land with a reliable internet connection. Until then, enjoy the rest of your romantic sailing adventure. Give my love to your skipper as well; please tell dear Captain Lennox not to run aground like we did in the harbor last week. And Freddy calls himself a Navy man! I suppose he was too distracted by my adorable roommate to pay attention to such complicated ideas as “where are we going” and “tides.” I worry that I’m turning into you, trying to pair Judy with my brother. For all the crap I’ve given you about trying push me and Henry together (EVEN IF HE IS GREG’S BEST MAN, IT’S STILL NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN, EDITH), here I am wistfully dreaming of marrying off my best roommate to my best brother after only a week of them knowing each other. They’d be really cute together, I swear!</p><p>Merry Christmas, felicitations, etc etc,</p><p>Margaret</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><b>To:</b> Louisa Bingley &lt;LouLouB93@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>From: </b> Caroline Bingley &lt;caro.bingley@gmail.com&gt;<br/><b>Subject: </b> FWD: Booking Reference KQ1L79 JFK-LHR Dec 30 2015<br/><b>Date: </b>12/28/15</p><p>See below for our flight details and make sure to book us a car from the airport!! I cant wait to see you it was weird you not being home for xmas. (Thanks again for the boots!) Charles has been such a pathetic sad sack since he got home. Its unbearable tbh. So glad he’ll be in London this semester away from jane and that we’ll have custody of him for the next month to distract him from his “heartbreak,” ugh.</p><p>-C</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello to all and a Merry December! It's been uh... several months since I posted, but there's a lot of external factors happening in my life that have made writing a challenge. Now that I am synced up with the months of the story, I going to try to get January up in January, February up in February, and on and on until something inevitably comes up in my personal life to derail that scheme. For now, though, I'm enjoying being back in the writing routine, even if it sometimes takes me a full hour to get a hundred words that I'm happy with. </p><p>Also, please everyone enjoy the knowledge that you exist in the world with vaquitas while you can; estimates are that there are only 10 left in the world in 2020. I only found out about them two days ago when my nephew learned about them in school. Trying to keep them in captivity for breeding and protection purposes is not a viable option, so basically the only thing that can be done for them is strict enforcement of fishing bans. Seems very likely they'll be extinct soon :(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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